Asinaria: The One about the Asses (Wisconsin Studies in Classics)

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Asinaria

Publication of this volume has been made possible in part through the generous support and enduring vision of Warren G. Moon.

Asinaria The One about the Asses Plautus

t r a n sl at e d w i t h c o m m e n ta ry by john henderson

the universit y of wisconsin press

The University of Wisconsin Press 1930 Monroe Street Madison, Wisconsin 53711 www.wisc.edu/wisconsinpress/ 3 Henrietta Street London WC2E 8LU, England Copyright © 2006 The Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System All rights reserved 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Plautus, Titus Maccius. [Asinaria. English & Latin] Asinaria : the one about the asses / Plautus ; translated and with commentary by John Henderson. p. cm. — (Wisconsin studies in classics) Text in Latin with English translation; introductory material and commentary in English. Includes bibliographical references and indexes. ISBN 0-299-21990-9 (cloth : alk. paper)—ISBN 0-299-21994-1 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Plautus, Titus Maccius. Asinaria. I. Henderson, John, 1948– . II. Title. III. Series. PA6568.A7 2006 872⬘.01—dc22 2006007519

Contents

Preface / vii Prologue / xi 1–15 The Prologue tells all | there’s nothing to tell, so listen Asinaria: Text and Translation / 2 Language, Metre, and Text Plautin Language and Latin Vocabulary / 105 Outline of the Metres of Asinaria / 117 Differences That Make a Difference / 121 Commentary and Analysis 1. Killing the Plot / 125 16–126 Somewhere in theatre Greece . . . Father enlists Slave One to swindle Mother and fund Loverboy Son 2. Drive a Hard Bargain / 136 127–152 Loverboy’s lament 153–248 Loverboy spars with Madame: a deal is cut 3. Funny Money / 143 249–266 Slave One’s wake up call 267–380 Slave Two’s . . . brainwave

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Contents

381–406 The Courier arrives 407–503 The con’s too convincing: Saurea’s world 4. American Beauty / 155 504–544 The Sex Slave holds out on Momma 5. Beating the System / 158 545–590 We’re in the money . . . and We’re so pretty, o so pretty . . . 591–745 Lovers’ last gasp lament and Slaves riding high: Loverboy pays his dues 6. Stick to the Script / 166 746–809 Pal writes a contract for rival Loverboy 810–827 Loverboy’s Pal will snitch to Mother on his new rival: Father 7. Rotten Rhetorics / 169 828–850 Dad’s party swings 851–941 Mum fetches him home 8. “It’s a gas”: Space, Movement, Verse / 183 9. Beastly Lives / 191 591–745 (reprise) Have the whip hand, get your own back 10. A Right Earful: Audience as Asinaria / 207 Epilogue / 213 942–947 Some curtain call: your applautus is appreciated Notes / 219 Bibliography / 241 Indexes / 247

Preface She has her husband back, but he is no great prize. Niall Slater The tattered outlaw of the earth, | of ancient crooked will: Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb, | I keep my secret still. G. K. Chesterton, “The Donkey” (1920)

Res ridicula est. This play endured much comical misrepresentation and suffered farcical underappreciation in twentieth-century reception (p. 224 n.5). I should like to recommend its “wit and fun”; and proclaim to one and all: “it’s a gas” (13–14). The One about the Asses is full of Rome: slavery and sex slavery; money and family structure; masculinity and social standing; senility and partying; jokes, lies, and idiocy. This is Latin behaving badly, and Plautus isn’t a pushover to read (pp. 105–16). But—especially if you have the sort of mind that will let you hear a donkey hee-haw as in Don Quixote—you’ll go a bundle on the nonstop silliness. So, as the prologue yells, LISTEN, as naughty Rome gets its kicks—and gives itself a kick in the Asinaria. We don’t know the date of first production, but it must have been shown, in a temporary auditorium, to the people of Rome at some state festival provided by elected magistrates of the Republic at its zenith in the late third or early second centuries BCE (p. 127). It then became classic theatre, revived and eventually edited for reading in and after school from the mid-first century BCE onwards. Like all Plautus’ surviving score of verse comedies, it is written in a colourful splash of colloquial mixed with parodic Latin, from a couple of centuries before the rest of the Roman verse we read today was first composed (pp. 117–20). A special language, then, and special play of language, but “Plautin” doesn’t have to be daunting,

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particularly if you don’t mind me supplying a guide to rare vocabulary and unfamiliar language (pp. 105–16)—and “normalizing” the spelling. For the text, I list divergences from the long standard old stand-by, W. M. Lindsay’s Oxford Classical Text (1904), where more than orthography is involved: pp. 121–2. Of course I’m dissing the paradosis, but we could never come anywhere close to just what Plautus may have written, and in practice this play is virtually unaffected by which, by whose, edition. For all matters of transmission, including spelling, I am fortunate to be able to refer you to R. M. Danese’s Sarsina/Urbino Text (2004), which appeared after my work was completed. This amply conservative text is based on fresh, and definitive, collation of all the MSS, and will provide the bedrock for all future editions of the play (see the exact, and perfectly simultaneous, twin reviews, carefully noting all the misprints and slips, by Fontaine [2005] and Walker [2005], and the list of my divergences from Danese—again suppressing minimalia: p. 122). But here and now accessibility just has to take precedence. The metrical scheme is mostly regular, and easy to grasp: I give a brief run down, in the modern—“syllabic”—style (pp. 117–19), and key the text so that the notation provided will keep the verse rhythm running “for you” (p. 2). Plautus does write in a brash poetic/unpoetic (“poetic”) mode, which charges along noisily and heftily, taking charge of raw topics and risible relationships with a swagger in its step, and a lurching bravura all its own: well worth the rude ride. Let me finally confirm, this playtime is, it boasts at once, “on the short side,” as well (breue est, 8: under 1,000 lines). I.e., worth all the time you got. In fact, I’m convinced there is nothing at all to stop us playing Asinaria for all it’s worth: the “family plot” allows for every register of comedy, from crude farce to complex play within the leading roles (p. 221 n.20). The stand-out central scenes starring the pair of thinking and motoring slaves give us plenty to think about human relations in the intimacy of the classical household (chapters 3, 5, 9). Above all, they dish out humour. Cruel, brave, acute, stupid, basic, tantalizing, relentless, improvisational, knockabout, punning . . . humour. The verbal repartee supports a series of energetic bodily figures that lay bare the axioms of social status for all to beware. Sure, the play’s Father makes a complete mug of himself by getting far too involved with his son’s adventures in love, in the sex trade; until Mother has to shoo him back home (chapter 7). But all through, to right and to left, on stage and off it, where you most expect and least suspect,

Preface

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this play guarantees, you will keep finding yourself running into asses, asses, and (yes) more asses (pp. xiv, 194, 236 n.12). If you’ll let me be your “Donkey-Driver” (asinarius: p. 211), I recommend that you read the play first time in chunks (see contents, pp. v–vi). Let my Prologue introduce you to Plautus’ Prologue (pp. xi–xiv). Use and abuse my text and translation, and the help with Plautus’ Latin (language and vocabulary) I supply for each scene (pp. 105–16). Then see what you think about my thoughts on each major episode (chapters 1 through 7). Once you’ve read through the play, it will be time to reprise and reflect on the whole show, and I provide three further discussions for that stage (chapters 8 through 10). The first sets out Asinaria’s dramaturgy of “Space, movement, verse.” The second returns to the play’s classic highpoint, focusing on the play’s dominant imagery: “Beastly lives.” In the third, I tune in to how this comedy tells us we should listen: “A right earful.” To bring down the curtain, a minimal Epilogue sees off Plautus’ (pp. 213–15). I’m presuming that it’s a good idea to get into comedy when writing about it, otherwise how will anyone know it is comic? I think it best to stick to the play before us, in order to find out if it’s worth booking tickets for any others: naturally, plenty of formulae, routines, conventions, and their deviation, inversion, mutation, and hybridization, are at work in generating this particular entertainment; but the general structures shuffled to make this theatre are familiar enough to all of us through their re-cycling in modern adaptation, re-cycling, and revival—the question that matters here is whether this play holds up, deserves your attention, trounces the competition. The erudiated mix of slang and jive in my translation is meant to trip the “Plautus effect,” which hits on out-and-out abuse of norms and normality with full-on assault from stuff and nonsense. In particular, a scattering of mid-Atlantic misfit between my worst samples of staged Anglo- and my best bites of media-American English stands (in) for the defamiliarizing turn in Plautin that sets out to resist appropriation from any naturalizing critique, no matter how plebeian, vulgarian, or populist: these items are explained in with the line-by-line notes on “Plautin”: (pp. 105–16). What farce can contrive to tell society about itself this way can be priceless—or so the thought-bubble will be saying in my cartoon. I am, as ever, grateful to all the characters in and out of Cambridge with whom I (should) have studied Plautus over the years. This is, in my view,

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the most poorly served oeuvre in all Roman poetry. Let me acknowledge, however, that my ears were re-opened by Kathy McCarthy, Slaves, Masters and the Art of Plautine Comedy (2000), whose powerful construal happens to underplay Asinaria. Same goes for the supple and mature enquiry of William Fitzgerald, Slavery and the Roman Literary Imagination (2000). I found indispensable comments in Ussing (1875), 1:347–435 and notes in Gray (1894), and the tradition is faithfully decocted in Bertini (1968). Adrian Gratwick (1993) has revolutionized both the understanding and the presentation of Plautine verse. Without Malcolm Willcock, I’d be plain lost. Audiences at Duke University and at Harvard heard draft papers (my thanks to Micaela Janan and Peter and Maura Burian, and to Richard Thomas, for taking such good care of me, as superpower plunged us to war); more friends, but especially William Fitzgerald, Emily Gowers, Sharon James, Kathy McCarthy, Carole Newlands, Vicky Rimell, Patricia Rosenmeyer, Alison Sharrock, the press’s ebullient referees, Sheila Moermond, copyeditor John Tiedemann, and my editor, Adam Mehring, all helped to make this book as well; other important contributions to the enjoyment and understanding of the play are recorded in the notes, usually with a leg-pull thrown in. All blunders are down to this asinigo. The jacket shows us the actress “Mlle Lange (as Danae)” in all her glory. Before her turkey-cock lover, and firebrand lust, lurks the telltale roll emblazoned ASINARIA. She had played Élise in Molière’s Plautine l’Avare in Paris in 1790, and this Vanitas is Girodet’s comic revenge for spurning his previous portrayal of her as Venus: Anne-Louis Girodet de RoussyTrioson (1799), oil on canvas, 65 by 54 cm, reproduced by kind permission of the Minnesota Institute of Arts. My thanks to DeAnn M. Dankowski for her generous help.

Prologue

1–15 The Prologue tells all | there’s nothing to tell, so listen “I’m a person as much as you,” so the actor playing the slave playing the slave overseer tells the actor playing the straight-up role of free trader stranger-in-town.1 “P’raps, and yet—,” comes the rebuff, polite prudence to the end, “—A man’s a wolf, not a man, to a man who don’t know what he’s like” (= humanity estranged: homo, 490 ~ 493, homo homini, non homo, 495).2 The horseplay ends with wife-and-mother scolding naughty paterfamilias back home, for revenge with kisses (= bilge-water stench) and dinner on the table (= trouble, and so to bed: 893–940). The cast invite us to beg off the (castratory) husband-beating with a rousing score on the clapometer; and, curtains (= cut-off: 942–7). The stand-out moment of donkey business came a good deal earlier, in the cameo, one of Plautus’ greatest, which had young master-lover-son stop and pick up a piggy-back passenger: the ringmaster Cunning Slave wants a ride, and gets one (= one of Plautus’ daftest: 699–710).3 The businesslike Prologue gave spectators due notice, loud and clear, that today’s plot “takes no time at all,” it won’t take a moment, and in fact—it doesn’t (8, sane breuest)! Instead, in less time than it takes to say “plot,” attention fastens on the name of the play, backed with a promise of “wit-nfun—this one is a gas” (6–12; 13–14). Such preliminaries need kid us not. They generally put in play tasters of what’s to come, if only we knew it. On this occasion, as often, the tightly structured composition tips us the wink for the direction we should be xi

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Prologue

looking—or rather, listening. A cruel gag (from the anarchic satirist Peter Cook) once ran: And now, for those who are hard of hearing—LISTEN!

But Plautus’ prologue beams up ears to hear for one and all. First off, the hope is—“Do it, if you will”—that the production will “turn out well, for me and for all you.” Last up, farce does its will, telling that the writer “turned the play,” out of Greek, for “such is his will, if you allow it. . . . Give it up real good for me, so for you”—the hope is—“Mars [Roman god of war, and father of Romulus, founder of Rome] will give his backing, on a par with his past record” (12–15).4 Prologue’s “entrée, his will,” was to “say,” it is to “say” (and, as he says, he “says” he “said so,” too), that “the play’s changed its name from the Greek name of the play,” ΔONAGOS, The Donkey-driver, to ASINARIA—The One about Donkey-driver or The One about Donkey[s] (6–12). Now this is fun. But is it fun and dandy because it’s fussy fuss about nothing? Of course it is. Minutiae are fun, especially when they take over the whole of this amplified programme and yet seem to make such infinitesimal difference, any which way you look at it (see n. and p. 211).5 But (I said) our ears are meant to be flapping. Prologue already made a crier do his thing, [SHHH! BRAY SILENCE!],

before sitting him down, with a reminder to claim a double fee: for noise and for silence. In a flash, the human otophone’s rude proclamation made the whole of Rome into one acoustically amplified auditorium. From this moment on, who is there at the Asinaria that does not have ass’s ears? “Me and you,” Prologue began, “me so you,” he bowed out, “. . . backing . . . on a par” (2 ~ 14–15). Point is, the tale is well and truly pinned to the donkey before the start, and just as the entire “troupe” on this stage will take some beating, so we otosclerotic spectators must pin back our ears and take what we have coming, to a man. No troop of monkeys, but a herd (this should be a “pace”)—of donkeys (grex, 3).6 So much for the public address system. Brought to us in a neat, overneat, rhetorical ring that gives nothing away and enjoys itself telling us

Prologue

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so. The presenter, uptightass Prologue, stuffs in the deictic “shifters” (herenow-this-I/we/you): hoc, 1; huic, 3; huc, 6 nunciam, 1; | face nunciam . . . , | age nunc, 3–4; | nunc . . . , | nunc, 6, 9; nunc, 15 nomen huius fabulae |, . . . huic nomen . . . fabulae |, 7, 10; hac comoedia |, 13 mihi atque uobis, 2; mihi . . . , uobis, 6, 9; uos, 12; mihi | ut uos, 14–15. In calling for his “turn” by insisting on presencing the act of utterance, he’s doing his own heralding: quid processerim . . . et quid uoluerim, | dicam, 6–7 quod me dixi uelle uobis dicere, | dicam, 9–10. So here he is, now, in our face—and busy: the rhetorical thread runs bright and taut through the crier’s inset and the writer’s shift of title, between the ring of opening and closing “hopes”: agite ~ face . . . , age ~ date, 1, 4–5, 14 si-uultis ~ uolt . . . si per uos licet, 1, 12 uultis ~ uoluerim ~ uelle ~ uolt, 1, 6, 9, 12 mihi atque uobis res uortat bene ~ uortit ~ res . . . , benigne . . . mihi | ut uos, 2, 11, 14–15. Busily refusing to tell us, but busy filling us in. If we only knew the upshot . . . —but that would stop us wondering, seeing if we can figure out Asinaria as we go. (Retrospect and re-run will feature, all in good time: chapters 8–10. Just before the Epilogue signs off: pp. 213–15.) A decent playwright knows that teasing hints are what you really want from a preface. A good bet for now will be not to invest too much in the storyline, let alone the characters. Rather, cue “downgrading of plot” (= Prologue and Epilogue, chapter 1), and “insisting on payment—take the money,” “parity,” and “terms and conditions”—you can’t say fairer than that (= chapters 2 and 3). “Fun” is promised—and, trust me, promises will make the fun fun (= esp. chapters 3, 5, 9). We will be “over-hearing” everything

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there is to hear, if you can bear it (= chapter 10). Most of all—and to pull this off, the play will need to level “actor, audience, troupe, producer impresarios, and booking agents” (2–3)—The One about the Donkeys will kill off claims to special status among specimens of humanity up and down the town: OYEZ, ass-ass-inate the lot of them, and us. All just as bad (jokes) as the rest (4): face . . . omnem auritum poplum. ~ All ears, mind (= chapter 10).7

Ears will be an asset in Plautus’ word-famous circus. Expect a histrionic thrash of hybrid, mutant, rhetorics.

Asinaria Text and Translation

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Asinaria: The One about the Asses

Key to Text → →

SERVVS LIBANVS LIB {LIB} > 1–126 senarii

hoc ̣ agite ̣siuultis -tis spect-

ăgĭtĕ quaĕquidem dicám Leōnida

proinde

si uultis, mihi atque dicam | huic

?obsequellam?

in left margin: entrance of a character in right margin: exit of a character role name of character, with its abbreviation in bold name of character abbreviated character speaks aside to another character or to us in left margin: addressed to another character in right margin: name of metre i.e., sublinear dots = start of invariably long (ˉ) or resolved (˘˘) syllable of each metrical unit i.e., gap in text: = “main caesura” (i.e. word-break within the 3rd foot) in senarii; = midline break in longer verses i.e., supralinear ˘ = the marked syllable is “short” i.e., supralinear ˘ in bold = the metre counts the marked syllable as “short” i.e., supralinear accent = the metre counts the marked syllable as “long” i.e., supralinear makron = the marked vowel is a separate long syllable i.e., supralinear arc = synizesis and the like (i.e., the marked vowels are a diphthong or slur together metrically) elision or syncope (i.e., the words slur together so that the raised syllables do not count metrically) hiatus and the like (i.e., adjacent words do not slur together metrically) the text is damaged beyond rescue

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

3

Key to Translation → →

SLAVE LIBANUS LIB {} > spoken verse

in left margin: entrance of a character in right margin: exit of a character role name of character name of character abbreviated spoken aside to another character or us addressed to another character in right margin: type of verse

4 →

Asinaria: The One about the Asses PROLOGVS 1–126 senarii hoc ̣ ăgĭtĕ ̣siu ultis, ̣spectat ̣ores, n ̣uncĭa ̣m, i quaĕquĭd ̣em mĭh ̣ atquĕ u ̣obis ̣res uert ̣at bĕn ̣e grĕgĭq ̣ue huic et d ̣ŏmĭnis ̣ atquĕ c ̣onduct ̣orĭb ̣us. {face n ̣uncĭa ̣m tu, p ̣raeco, omn ̣em aurit ̣um pŏp ̣lum. ăgĕ n ̣unc rĕs ̣ide, c ̣ăuĕ mŏd ̣o ne g ̣ratĭi ̣s.} nunc q ̣uid proc ̣essĕr ̣im huc et q ̣uid mĭhĭ u ̣ŏlŭĕr ̣im, dic ̣am: ut scir ̣etis n ̣omen ̣ huius ̣fabŭl ̣ae. nam q ̣uŏd ăd arg ̣ument ̣um attĭn ̣et, san ̣e brĕu ̣e est. nunc q ̣uod me d ̣ixi u ̣ellĕ u ̣obis d ̣icĕr ̣e, dic ̣ám: | huic n ̣omen G ̣ raece Ŏn ̣ago est ̣fabŭl ̣ae. Dem ̣ ŏphĭlus ̣scripsit, M ̣ accus u ̣ertit b ̣arbăr ̣e, Ăsĭn ̣arĭa ̣m uult ̣ essĕ, ̣si per u ̣os lĭc ̣et. ĭn ̣est lĕp ̣os lud ̣usque in ̣ hac com ̣ oedĭa ̣ , rid ̣ĭcŭlă ̣res est. d ̣ătĕ bĕn ̣igne ŏpĕr ̣am mĭh ̣i ut u ̣os, ŭt ă ̣ lĭas, p ̣ărĭter n ̣unc Mars ̣ adiŭu ̣et.

→→ LIB

DEM

LIB DEM LIB

SERVVS CALLIDVS = LIBANVS + SENEX = PATER = DEMAENETVS sic ̣ut tŭu ̣m uis ̣ unĭc ̣um nat ̣um tŭa ̣e sŭpĕr ̣essĕ u ̣itae ̣sospĭt ̣em et sŭp ̣erstĭt ̣em ĭtă ̣t ed obt ̣estor p ̣er sĕn ̣ectut ̣em tŭa ̣m, perq ̣ue illam, q ̣uam tu m ̣ ĕtŭĭs ̣, uxor ̣em tŭa ̣m, siq ̣uid med ̣ erga | h ̣ŏdĭe ̣falsum d ̣ixĕr ̣is, ut ̣t ĭbĭ sŭp ̣erstes ̣ uxor ̣ aetat ̣em sĭe ̣t atq ̣ue illa u ̣iua u ̣iuŭs ̣ ut pest ̣em oppĕt ̣as. per D ̣ īum F ̣ ĭdĭum q ̣uaeris: ̣iurat ̣o mĭh ̣i uĭdĕo ̣ nĕc ̣esse ess ̣e elŏq ̣ui quidq ̣uid rŏg ̣es proind ̣e actut ̣um istuc q ̣uid sit qu ̣od scir ̣e expĕt ̣is el ̣ŏquĕre: ŭt ̣ ipsĕ ̣scibo, ̣t e făcĭam u ̣t scĭa ̣s. dic ̣ obsĕc ̣ro herclĕ ̣serĭo ̣ quod ̣t e rŏg ̣em, căuĕ m ̣ ĭhĭ mend ̣aci q ̣uidquam. q ̣uin tu erg ̣o rŏg ̣as? num m ̣ e illuc d ̣ucĭs ̣ ŭbĭ lăp ̣is lăpĭd ̣em tĕr ̣it? d ăpŭ ̣fustĭtŭ ̣dĭnas, ̣ferrĭc ̣rĕpĭnas ̣ insŭl ̣as, ŭbĭ u ̣iuos ̣ hŏmĭnes m ̣ ortŭi ̣i ncurs ̣ant bŏu ̣es?

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→

16

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24 27

30 31 34 35

Asinaria: The One about the Asses →

LIB

DEM

LIB DEM LIB

5

THE PROLOGUE 1–126: Do it, spectators, if you will. Act right here and now. Hope this one’ll turn out well, for me and for all of you. spoken For the troupe here, their lordship producers, the agents. verse {Now you, Mr. p. a. man, make the whole nation all ears. SHHH! BRAY SILENCE! 5 And now act . . . sitting down. Only, mind it’s not for free.} Why did I step out here? What was it I was wanting? I shall say. For you to know the name of this play. As for the plot, see, it sure takes no time at all. Now as for saying I wanna have my say to you, I shall say. The play’s name in Greek is Conducteur des Ânes. 10 Demophilus wrote it. Clown Plautus put it in pidgin; wants it to be The One About Asses, if ok by you. In it there is wit, and there is fun, in this comedy. This one is a gas. Do give it up for me. Real fit. → Then, hope is, Mars’ll back you. On a par with the past. SLAVE: “THE BRAINS” = LIBANUS + SENIOR CITIZEN = FATHER = DEMAENETUS So. As you will want for your one and only son 16 to outlive your lifetime, out of harm, outlasting, so be my witness, by your status of elder, and by that woman, the one that you fear, the wife, 20 if this day, as regards me, you tell me anything false, that said wife of yours shall outlast your span of time, and that in her life—your life shall fall to the plague. In Gods’ Truth, huh? I see that I am under oath 24 and obliged to speak up, whatever your question. So right now. What is it you are seeking to know, 27 speak up. So far as I know, I’ll make it so you know. I beg, lordy, don’t mock, but answer my question. Watch it, no lying to me. Why don’t you ask your question? 30 You’re not taking me off to the land where rock grinds rock, 31 away in the Ironbongo-Clubbery Isles, 34 the place where dead oxen assault live human beings? 35

6 DEM LIB

DEM LIB DEM LIB DEM LIB DEM LIB DEM LIB DEM

LIB

DEM

LIB DEM LIB DEM LIB DEM LIB DEM LIB

Asinaria: The One about the Asses mŏdŏ p ̣ol perc ̣epi, L ̣ĭbănĕ, q ̣uĭd ĭstuc ̣sit lŏc ̣i: ŭbĭ ̣fit pŏl ̣entă, ̣t e fort ̣assĕ d ̣icĕr ̣e. ah, nĕq ̣ue hercle ĕg ̣o istuc d ̣ico n ̣ec dict ̣um uŏl ̣o, teq ̣ue obsĕc ̣ro hercle ut q ̣uae lŏc ̣utus es d ̣espŭa ̣s. fia ̣t. gĕr ̣atur m ̣ os tĭb ̣i. ăge, ăge, usq ̣ue excrĕa ̣ . ĕtĭa ̣mne? ăgĕ q ̣uaeso herc ̣le usque ex p ̣ĕnĭtis ̣faucĭb ̣us, am ĕtĭ a ̣mplĭu ̣s. nam q ̣uousque? usq ̣ue ad mort ̣em uŏl ̣o— căuĕ ̣siuis măl ̣am rem. —ux ̣oris d ̣ico, n ̣on tŭa ̣m. don ̣o te ŏb ̣ istuc d ̣ictum ut e ̣xpers ̣sis mĕt ̣u. di ̣t ĭbĭ dent q ̣uaecumq ̣ue optes. ̣redde ŏpĕr ̣am mĭh ̣i. o am cur ̣ hoc ĕg ̣ ex te q ̣uaer ? aut c ̣ur mĭnĭt ̣er tĭb ̣i propt ̣ĕrĕa q ̣uod me n ̣on scĭe ̣ntem ̣fecĕr ̣is? aut c ̣ur post ̣remo ̣filĭo ̣ susc ̣ensĕa ̣m, păt ̣res ut ̣făcĭunt c ̣etĕr ̣i? quĭd ĭst ̣uc nŏu ̣i est? o dem ̣ iror q ̣uid sit ̣ et qu eu ̣adat ̣sum in mĕt ̣u. ĕquĭd ̣em scĭo ̣ iam, ̣filĭu ̣s quŏd ăm ̣ et mĕu ̣s ist ̣anc mĕrĕt ̣ricem e p ̣roxĭmo ̣ Phĭl ̣aenĭu ̣m. estn ̣e hoc ut d ̣ico, L ̣ĭbănĕ? ̣rectam inst ̣as uĭa ̣m. ĕă ̣res est. ̣sĕd ĕum m ̣ orbŭs ̣ inuas ̣it grău ̣is. e quid m ̣ orbi st? q ̣uĭă non ̣suppĕt ̣unt dict ̣is dăt ̣a. tun ̣e es adi ̣utor n ̣unc ăm ̣ anti ̣filĭo ̣? o sum u ̣er , ĕt ̣ alter n ̣ostĕr ̣ est Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a. bĕn ̣e herclĕ ̣făcĭtĭs ̣ ĕt ă me ĭn ̣itis g ̣ratĭa ̣m. uer ̣um meam ux ̣orem, L ̣ĭbănĕ, n ̣escis q ̣ualĭs ̣sit? tu p ̣rimus ̣sentis, n ̣os tămĕn ̣ in prĕtĭo ̣ sŭm ̣ us. fătĕo ̣r ĕam e ̣sse imp ̣ortun ̣am atque inc ̣ommŏd ̣am. post ̣ĕrĭus ̣ istuc d ̣icis q ̣uam cred ̣o tĭb ̣i.

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Sure, Libanus, I have just seen what that place is: “where pasta’s made” is maybe what you’re saying. Ow. No I’m not saying that, lord, and I don’t want it said, and I beg, lordy, do gob out that talk of yours. Done. Just to humour you. Go, go, hawk up all the way. 40 More? Go, please, lord, all the way from deep down the throat. Still more. All the way . . . where? All the way to death, I’d like. Watch out for trouble, ok . . . —Oh no, not yours. Your wife’s. My prize for that is you’ll have no cut in the . . . fear. The gods grant your every wish. Now do a job for me. 45 Why would I ask you this? And why would I menace you, ’cos of the fact that you didn’t put me in the know? And, last in line, why would I get cross with my son, the way that all other fathers do? What’s this new one? 50 I’m fazed. What’s this? Going where? Here I am “in the fear.” I already know it: that son of mine. Love. Sex. With that whore from next door. With her—Philaenium. Is it as I say, Libanus? You’re on the right track. 55 That’s it. But a pox has gone for him, something chronic. What pox is that? Not having the fees to match the talk. Are you my son’s lieutenant, now running loverboy? I am indeed. And our number two’s Leonida. Lord, that’s kind of you. You’re both winning points from me. 60 But, my wife, Libanus. You know the way she is? You feel it first, but we star on her list, all the same. I must admit, she’s . . . discouraging, . . . disagreeable. Your saying that comes second to my crediting it.

8 DEM

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Asinaria: The One about the Asses omn ̣es păr ̣entes, L ̣ĭbănĕ, ̣libĕr ̣is sŭi ̣s qui m ̣ i auscult ̣abunt, ̣făcĭent ̣ obsĕq ̣uentia ̣m quippe q ̣ui măge ăm ̣ ico ut ̣antur n ̣ato et b ̣ĕnĕuŏl ̣o. e e atq ̣u ĕgŏ m id ̣făcĕrĕ ̣stŭdĕo, u ̣ŏlo ămar ̣i a mĕi ̣s, uŏlŏ m ̣ e păt ̣ris mei ̣sĭmĭlem, q ̣ui caus ̣a mĕa ̣ nauc ̣lerĭc ̣o ̣ipse orn ̣atu p ̣er fall ̣acĭa ̣m quam ăm ̣ abam abd ̣uxit ̣ ab len ̣onĕ m ̣ ŭlĭĕr ̣em, nĕquĕ p ̣ŭdŭit ̣ ĕum ĭd aet ̣atis ̣sycŏp ̣hantĭa ̣s strŭĕr ̣e et bĕnĕf ̣ĭcĭis m ̣ e ĕmĕrĕ n ̣atum ̣suum sĭb ̣i. e eos m ̣ e dec ̣retum st p ̣ersĕq ̣ui mor ̣es păt ̣ris. nam m ̣ e hŏdĭe or ̣auit ̣ Argy˘ ̣rippus ̣filĭu ̣s ŭt ̣i sĭbi ăm ̣ anti ̣făcĕrem arg ̣enti c ̣opĭa ̣m, ĕt ̣ ĭd ĕgŏ p ̣ercŭpĭo o ̣bsĕq ̣ui nat ̣o mĕo ̣: uŏlo ăm ̣ ari ?obsĕcutam? illius, u ̣ŏlo ămet m ̣ e păt ̣rem. e hăbet, ater arte c ontent equ quamq ̣uam illum m ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ păt ̣res ut c ̣onsueu ̣erunt ̣—ĕgŏ mitt ̣o omnĭa h ̣aec. praes ̣ertim c ̣um is me d ̣ignum c ̣u i conc ̣redĕr ̣et hăbŭi ̣t, me hăb ̣ere hŏn ̣orem eius ̣ ingĕnĭo ̣ dĕc ̣et. cum m ̣ e ădĭit, ut pŭd ̣entem n ̣atum aeq ̣uum est păt ̣rem, cŭpĭo e ̣sse ăm ̣ icae q ̣uod det ̣ argent ̣um sŭa ̣e. cŭpĭs ̣ id quod c ̣ŭpĕrĕ ̣t e neq ̣uiquam int ̣ellĕg ̣o. dot ̣alem ̣seruum S ̣aurĕam u ̣xor ̣t ŭă tĭb ̣i add ̣uxit, c ̣u i plus ̣ in măn ̣u sit q ̣uam tĭb ̣i. arg ̣entum acc ̣epi, d ̣ote imp ̣ĕrĭum u ̣endĭd ̣i. nunc u ̣erba in p ̣aucă c ̣onfĕr ̣am quid ̣t e uĕl ̣im. uig ̣inti ̣i am usus est ̣filĭo a ̣rgent ̣i mĭn ̣is: făce ĭd ̣ ut păr ̣atum ̣iam sit ̣. undĕ g ̣entĭu ̣m? me d ̣efraud ̣ato. m ̣ axĭm ̣ as nug ̣as ăg ̣is: nud ̣o det ̣răhĕrĕ u ̣estim ̣ entă m ̣ e iŭb ̣es. def ̣raudem ̣t ĕ | ĕgo? ăgĕ ̣siuis tu, ̣sĭnĕ penn ̣is uŏl ̣a. ten ̣e ĕgŏ def ̣raudem, c ̣u i ipsi n ̣ĭhĭl est ̣ in măn ̣u nĭsĭ q ̣uid tu p ̣orro ux ̣orem d ̣efraud ̣auĕr ̣is? qua m ̣ e, qua ux ̣orem, q ̣ua tu ̣seruum S ̣aurĕa ̣m pŏt ̣es, circ ̣umduc ̣e, aufer. p ̣romitt ̣o tĭb ̣i

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Parents the world over, Libanus, will take their kids, —if they’ll hear me out—and do some favouritism: to get more out of a positive friend of a son. Yes I’m keen to do it: I wanna be loved by my kid. I wanna be like my father, who on my behalf— in a ship cap’n’s rig, to enable a con—personally stole the She I was going with, from a pimp. He felt no shame, at that time of life, at skulduggery mongering—and buying his son (me) with good turns. I’ve decided to follow this, my, father’s approach. Today, see, my son pleaded with me—Argyrippus— to make available cash funds for loverboy. And here I feel passionate about favouring my child. I wanna favourize his love—want he should love me. All the same, mother keeps tight and taut rein on him, the way fathers habitually do: I renounce all this. Specially as he held me to deserve his credit, decency says I should pay tribute to his spirit. ’Cos he came to me, it’s fair, modest son to his father, my passion’s for cash, so he can pay for his playmate. Your passion—I know this passion of yours is in vain. In her dowry was a slave—Saurea—and your wife brought him over: to have more in his hand than you do. I took cash delivery, sold command for a dowry.

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Now to get what I want from you in a few words: my son needs twenty minae cash, immediate. See it’s there ready right away. Where on earth from? 90 You swindle me. You are talking utter nonsense. You’re telling me to rip off someone naked’s clothes. “Me swindle you?” P-lease, you, go fly—without wings. “You swindled? Me?” When you have nothing in your hand, except anything you’ve gone and swindled from your wife? 95 Any way you can: me. Or wife. Or slave Saurea. Take ’em round the houses, unload ’em. I promise you

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Asinaria: The One about the Asses non ̣ offŭt ̣urum, ̣si | ĭd ̣ hŏdĭe eff ̣ecĕr ̣is. iŭbĕa ̣s un ̣a ŏpĕra m ̣ e pisc ̣ari ĭn ̣ aĕr ̣e, uen ̣ari aut ̣em ret ̣é iăcŭl ̣o in mĕdĭo ̣ măr ̣i. tĭb ̣i optĭo ̣nem ̣sumĭt ̣o Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣am, făbrĭc ̣arĕ q ̣uiduis, q ̣uiduis c ̣ommĭn ̣iscĕr ̣e, perf ̣ĭcĭto arg ̣entŭm ̣ | hŏdĭe ŭt ̣ hăbĕat ̣filĭu ̣s ăm ̣ icae q ̣uod det. q ̣uĭd ăis ̣t u, Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣e? quid u ̣is? si ̣forte ĭn ̣ insĭdĭa ̣s deu ̣enĕr ̣o, tune ̣rĕdĭmes m ̣ e, si m ̣ e hostes ̣ interc ̣epĕr ̣int? rĕdĭm ̣ am. tum ̣t u ĭgĭtŭr ̣ ălĭud c ̣ura q ̣uidlĭb ̣et. o o ĕ ĕg ̣ ad fŏr ̣um, nĭsĭ q ̣uid uis ̣. i, bĕn ̣e ambŭl ̣a. atq ̣ue audisn ̣e ĕtĭăm ̣ ? | eccĕ. ̣si quid ̣t e uŏl ̣am, i ŭb ̣ ĕrĭs? ŭbĭc ̣umquĕ ̣lĭbĭtum ĕr ̣ĭt ănĭm ̣ o mĕo ̣. prŏf ̣ecto n ̣emo est q ̣uem iam d ̣eh inc mĕtŭa ̣m mĭh ̣i ne q ̣uid nŏc ̣erĕ p ̣ossit, c ̣um tu m ̣ ĭhĭ tŭa ̣ or ̣atĭo ̣ne omn ̣em ănĭmum ost ̣endist ̣i tŭu ̣m. {quin ̣t e quŏq ̣ue ipsum ̣făcĭo haud m ̣ agni, ̣si hoc păt ̣ro.} o i e perg ̣am qu occ ̣ep atq ̣u ĭbĭ cons ̣ĭlĭa ex ̣ordĭa ̣r. aud ̣isne tu? ăpŭd ̣ Archĭb ̣ulum ĕgo ĕr ̣o argent ̣arĭu ̣m. nemp ̣e in fŏr ̣o? ĭbĭ, si q ̣uĭd ŏpus ̣fŭĕrit. m ̣ ĕmĭnĕr ̣o. non ̣ essĕ ̣seruus p ̣eior ̣ hoc quisq ̣uam pŏt ̣est nec m ̣ ăgĭs uers ̣utus n ̣ec quo ab c ̣ăuĕas ̣ aegrĭu ̣s. em eid ̣ hŏmĭni, ̣si quid ̣recte c ̣urat ̣um uĕl ̣is, mand ̣es: mŏr ̣iri ̣sese m ̣ ĭsĕre m ̣ auŏl ̣et quam n ̣on perf ̣ectum ̣reddat q ̣uod prom ̣ isĕr ̣it. nam ĕg ̣o ĭllŭc arg ̣entum ̣t am păr ̣atum ̣filĭo ̣ scĭo e ̣ssĕ q ̣uam me hunc ̣scipĭo ̣nem c ̣ontŭī ̣.

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it’ll do you no harm at all if you get this job done today. You could tell me in the same deal, “Go fish the . . . sky,” 100 or, “Go hunt mid ocean, with nets for catching . . . game.” For sergeant, you must take along Leonida. Scheme up anything, anything you like, think it up. You are to see that my son gets the cash today to pay for playmate. Whaddya say, Demaenetus? What do you want? If I happen to get in a trap, 105 will you buy me out, if the enemy cut me off? Yes, I’ll buy you out. Then boss something else. What you like. I’m off to the mall, if that’ll be all? Go, walk good. You still listening? See? Should I want you at all, where’ll you be? Wherever my mind sees fit to ad lib. 110 For a fact, from now on, there’s no one for me to fear, in case they could do me some harm. Not when you’ve shown me the whole of your mind, in the course of speaking your plea. {Why, I won’t rate you much, either, if I get this farther.} I’ll go on where I started for, ’n’ there get weaving plans. 115 You listening? I’ll be at Archie Plotter, the banker’s. You mean in the mall? Yep, there, if need be. I shan’t forget. → No slave, not a one, can be badder than this ’un, nor more wily, nor harder for you to watch out for. The same person, if you want something seen to right, you’ll hand it him. He’ll prefer to die a sorry death than to deliver what he’s promised non-complete. See, that cash is good as there ready for my son, I ken it, as I behold this here walking kane.

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Asinaria: The One about the Asses sed q ̣uĭd ĕgŏ c ̣esso ir ̣e ad fŏr ̣um, quo inc ̣epĕr ̣am? ib ̣o atque ĭb ̣i măn ̣ebo ăpŭd ̣ argent ̣arĭu ̣m.

→ AMAT

125

→

ADVLESCENS AMATOR s ̣icĭn ̣e hoc ̣fit? fŏr ̣as ̣ aedĭb ̣us m ̣ e ëĭc ̣i?

127–32: cretic

p ̣romĕr ̣ent ̣i optĭm ̣ e hoc ̣ine prĕt ̣i ̣reddĭt ̣ur?

tetrameters

b ̣ĕnĕ mĕr ̣ent ̣i măl ̣a es, m ̣ ălĕ mĕr ̣ent ̣i bŏn ̣a es. a ̣t măl ̣o c ̣um tŭo ̣. n ̣am iăm ̣ | ex ̣ hoc lŏc ̣o

130

̣ibo ĕg ̣o ad ̣t resuĭr ̣os u ̣estrăq ̣ue ĭbĭ n ̣omĭn ̣a ̣faxo ĕr ̣unt, c ̣ăpĭtĭs ̣t e p ̣erdam ĕg ̣o et ̣filĭa ̣m— p ̣ellĕcĕb ̣rae p ̣ernĭcĭe ̣ ̣s ădŭl ̣esc ̣ent ̣um exĭtĭu ̣m— n ̣am măr ̣e haud ̣ est măr ̣é, u ̣os măr ̣e ac ̣errĭm ̣ um. n ̣am in măr ̣i ̣reppĕr ̣i, | h ̣ic el ̣au ̣i bŏn ̣is.

133: choriambic dimeter 134–7: cretic tetrameters 135

̣ingrat ̣a atq ̣ue irrĭt ̣a ess ̣e omnĭa ̣int ̣ellĕg ̣o q ̣uae dĕd ̣i et q ̣uod bĕn ̣é ̣feci at p ̣ost ̣hac tĭb ̣i— —m 138–380: ̣ ălĕ quod p ̣ŏtĕro ̣făcĕrĕ ̣făcĭam, m ̣ ĕrĭtoq ̣ue id făcĭa ̣m tŭo ̣ trochaic ĕ ̣gŏ pol ̣t e rĕdĭg ̣am eodem und ̣e orta e ̣s, ăd ĕgest ̣atis septenarii ̣t ermĭn ̣os. ĕ ̣go ĕdĕp ̣ol te ̣făcĭam ut q ̣uae sis n ̣unc et q ̣uae fŭĕr ̣is scĭa ̣s. 140 q ̣uae prĭŭs q ̣uam istam ădĭi a ̣tque ăm ̣ ans ĕg ̣o ănĭmum m ̣ ĕŭm | ist ̣i dĕd ̣i, ̣sordĭd ̣o uit ̣am oblect ̣abas p ̣ane in p ̣annis ̣ ĭnŏpĭa ̣ , a ̣tque ĕă ̣si ĕrănt, mag ̣nas hăb ̣ebas ̣ omnĭb ̣us dis g ̣ratĭa ̣s;

Asinaria: The One about the Asses But why dawdle, not go to the mall, where I was bound? I’m off, and there I shall stay put at the banker’s. → BOY

13 125 →

LOVER-BOY ONE Hey, can this really be I . . . me? . . . chucked sing-song happ’ning? out of the house? Way ahead in deserving And this must be my well, reward? Someone deserves well, And bad, you go and you treat bad. treat well. 130 Well, bad is coming to Right now, away from you, too. this place, I’m off, to the courthouse And it’s there your names will lodge. I’ll fix it, and I’m gonna You and your daughter for life— waste ballad E-ternyi-ty, . . . par-a-a-dise, O boy, that home ay-cross the road line ’Cos . . . the sea . . . is When you are the sea more song never . . . the sea of pain. 135 ’Cos . . . wealth . . . I But here was my wipe-out, found . . . down in clean. the sea It’s all inane, it’s all in vain. I know that all this is so. All those payments I paid, I have done. From now on, you— the deeds 138–745: —will find I’ll do you the bad I can, and you’ll deserve that I do. recitative I’ll drag you down, sure, where you came from, to the verse pit of privation. Surely, I’ll see you know what you are now, and just what 140 you were then. You. Before I was into your girl, and gave her loverboy’s heart, you used to spice up your life, with filthy rags and crusts, on skid row. And if you got that, you’d give the whole pantheon almighty thanks.

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Asinaria: The One about the Asses ĕ ̣ădem n ̣unc, cum est m ̣ ĕlĭus, m ̣ e cui us ̣ ŏpĕra est ̣ ignor ̣as măl ̣a. ̣ e mans ̣uetem, m ̣ e spect ̣a mŏd ̣o. ̣reddam ĕgŏ ̣t e ex fĕr ̣a făm

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n ̣am isti q ̣uid susc ̣ensĕam ̣ipsi? n ̣il est, n ̣il quidq ̣uam mĕr ̣et: ̣t uo făc ̣it iuss ̣u, tuo imp ̣ĕrĭo p ̣aret: m ̣ ater ̣t u, eadem ĕr ̣a es. ̣t ĕ | ĕgo ulc ̣iscar, ̣t ĕ | ĕgo ut d ̣igna es p ̣erdam atq ̣ue ut de m ̣ e mĕr ̣es. a ̣t scĕl ̣estă u ̣ĭdĕsne ut n ̣e ĭd quĭdem, m ̣ e dign ̣um esse ex ̣istĭm ̣ at q ̣uĕm | ădĕa ̣t, quem c ̣ollŏq ̣uatur, c ̣uique ir ̣ato ̣supplĭc ̣et?

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a ̣tque ecc ̣am illĕcĕb ̣ra exit ̣t andem. ŏp ̣inor ̣ hic ant ̣e ostĭu ̣m m ̣ eo mŏd ̣o lŏquăr q ̣uae uŏl ̣am, quŏnĭam ̣intus n ̣on lĭcĭt ̣um est mĭhi. ̣ → LENA

+ LENA u ̣num q ̣uodque ist ̣orum u ̣erbum n ̣ummis P ̣ hĭlĭppis ̣ aurĕi ̣s n ̣on pŏt ̣est auf ̣erre hinc ̣ a me ̣si quĭs ̣ emptor u ̣enĕr ̣it. n ̣ec rect ̣e quae ̣t u in nos d ̣icĭs ̣, aurum atq ̣ue argent ̣um mĕr ̣um est. ̣fixŭs ̣ hic ăpŭd n ̣os est ̣ ănĭmus ̣t ŭŭs clau ̣o Cŭp ̣idĭn ̣is. ̣remĭgĭo ̣ uel ̣oquĕ q ̣uantum p ̣ŏtĕris ̣festin ̣a et fŭg ̣e:

AMAT

155

q ̣uam măgĭs ̣t ĕ | ĭn alt ̣um căp ̣essis, ̣t am aestus ̣t e in port ̣um rĕf ̣ert. ĕ ̣gŏ pŏl ̣ istum p ̣ortĭt ̣orem p ̣riuab ̣o port ̣orĭo ̣. ĕ ̣gŏ te d ̣eh inc ut m ̣ ĕrĭta es d ̣e me et m ̣ ea re ̣t ractar ̣e 160 exsĕq ̣uar,

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

15

You, now it’s better. It was my doing, but you don’t know me. Bad’un. I’ll get you eating outa my hand from starving wild—just 145 you watch me. So. Why should I be cross with her? No reason. She deserves it—not. Does what you tell her, obeys your command. You’re mother, you’re own-her. I’ll get you back, I’ll waste you, as deserved, and merited from me. The wicked witch. See how she don’t even think this . . .— think me worthwhile for her to get close to, to swap words with, or kneel to, in a stew?

150

Just look. Out comes the vamp. At last. I guess that here, at the porch, I’ll say, in my way, what I like. Since, inside, it was verboten.

→ Mme

BOY

+ MADAME Never a one of these words of yours, not for dosh in gold sovereigns, can a buyer unload from me here, should one appear on the scene. The verbals you wrong us with are twenty-four carat gold, 155 pure cash. Your heart is nailed to my establishment by The Rivet Of Eros. Row all your oars, spread those sails to the wide, go faster, go flee: as you launch yourself at the deep, so the tide brings you back into port. Sure, I’m gonna starve this harbour-master of the harbour dues. Next up, I’m gonna treat you as you’ve deserved, for me 160 and my stash.

16

LENA

AMAT LENA

Asinaria: The One about the Asses c ̣um tu m ̣ e | ut m ̣ ĕrĭtus ̣sum non ̣t ractas, c ̣umque eic ̣is dŏm ̣ o. m ̣ ăgĭs ist ̣uc perc ̣ĭpĭmus ̣lingua d ̣ici q ̣uam fact ̣is fŏr ̣e.

̣solus ̣solĭt ̣udĭn ̣e ĕgŏ ted ̣ ̣solus ̣si duct ̣em, rĕf ̣errĕ ̣solus d ̣uctat ̣o, si ̣semper

atque ăb ĕg ̣estat ̣e abstŭl ̣i: g ̣ratĭa ̣m numq ̣uam pŏt ̣es. ̣solus q ̣uae posc ̣am dăb ̣is.

165

̣semper ̣t ĭbĭ prom ̣ issum hăb ̣eto hac ̣legĕ, d ̣um sŭpĕr ̣es dăt ̣is. AMAT

q ̣ui mŏd ̣us dand ̣i? nam n ̣umquam ̣t u quĭd ̣em expler ̣i pŏt ̣es.

LENA

m ̣ ŏdŏ cum acc ̣epist ̣i, haud mult ̣o post ̣ ălĭquid q ̣uod posc ̣as păr ̣as. q ̣uid mŏd ̣i est duct ̣ando, ăm ̣ ando? n ̣umquamn ̣e expler ̣i pŏt ̣es? 170 m ̣ ittam ad te ̣ rŏg ̣as. ̣ ŏdŏ rĕm ̣ isist ̣i, cont ̣ĭnŭo ̣iam ut rĕm

AMAT LENA

d ̣ĕdi ĕquĭd ̣em quod m ̣ ecum egi ̣sti. et ̣t ĭbi ĕgŏ m ̣ isi m ̣ ŭlĭĕr ̣em: p ̣ar păr ̣i dăt ̣um hostim ̣ entum est ̣, ŏpĕră p ̣ro pĕc ̣unĭa ̣ .

AMAT LENA

AMAT

LENA

m ̣ ăle ăgis m ̣ ecum. q ̣uid me acc ̣usas, ̣si făcĭo off ̣ĭcĭu ̣m mĕu ̣m? n ̣am nĕquĕ ̣fictum usq ̣uam est nĕquĕ p ̣ictum n ̣ĕquĕ script ̣um in pŏë ̣măt ̣is ŭ ̣bĭ len ̣ă bĕne ăg ̣at cum q ̣uiquam ăma ̣ntĕ q ̣uae frug ̣i 175 essĕ u ̣ult. m ̣ ĭhĭ quĭd ̣em te p ̣arcĕr ̣e aequum est ̣t andem, ut ̣t ĭbĭ dur ̣em dĭu ̣. n ̣on tu ̣scis? quae ăm ̣ anti p ̣arcĕt ̣, ĕădem ̣sĭbĭ parc ̣et păr ̣um. q ̣uăsĭ pĭsc ̣is ĭtĭd ̣em est ăm ̣ ator ̣lenae: n ̣equam est n ̣ĭsĭ rĕc ̣ens—

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

Mme

BOY Mme

BOY

Mme

BOY Mme

BOY Mme

BOY

Mme

17

One, you don’t treat me as I deserve, and two, chuck me out of doors. This strikes us as more how a tongue talks, not a realistic prospect. I was solo, you desolate: I rescued you from privation. If I took her home solo, you could never repay the favour. “Take her home solo,” if you’ll forever pay “solo,” on 165 demand. Your promise, this, forever. Just one condition: long’s you pay top whack. And with what ceiling for paying? You ne’er can be filled to the brim. You just took delivery: not long since you set some other demand. What ceiling for take-home-’n’-sex? You “ne’er can be filled to the brim.” You just return-delivered: post-haste, “return-delivery 170 to you”? I’ve paid up on your deal with me. And I’ve delivered you the girl. Par for par payment. This is equity rendered: service for fee. You do me a bad deal. Why accuse me if I’m doing my bit? See, nowhere is there story told, picture painted, or scene penned in verse, where madam cuts a good deal with some loverboy, and . . . 175 means . . . to do . . . right. You spare me, that’s fair, after this long. Then I’ll last you for ages. Don’t you know? Madam spares loverboy—she won’t spare madam enough. For madam, the lover’s just . . . like . . . a . . . fish: rotten unless it’s fresh—

18

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ̣ĭs hăbet ̣sucum, is ̣suauĭt ̣atem, eum q ̣uouis p ̣acto c ̣ondĭa ̣s u ̣el pătĭn ̣arĭu ̣m uĕl ̣ assum, u ̣erses q ̣uo pact ̣o lĭb ̣et; 180 ̣is dărĕ u ̣ult, is ̣se ălĭquid p ̣osci. n ̣am ĭbĭ de p ̣leno p ̣romĭt ̣ur, n ̣ĕque ĭllĕ ̣scit quid d ̣et, quid d ̣amni ̣făcĭat ̣: illi ̣rei stŭd ̣et. u ̣ult plăc ̣erĕ ̣sese ăm ̣ icae, u ̣ult mĭh ̣i, uult p ̣ĕdĭsĕq ̣uae, u ̣ult fămŭl ̣is, uult ̣ ĕtĭam anc ̣illis ̣, et quŏq ̣uĕ cătŭl ̣o mĕo ̣ ̣subbland ̣itur n ̣ŏuŭs ăm ̣ ator, ̣se ut cum u ̣ĭdĕat g ̣audĕa ̣t.

AMAT

u ̣eră d ̣ico: ad ̣suum quemq ̣ue hŏmĭnem q ̣uaestum ess ̣e aequum est c ̣allĭd ̣um. p ̣erdĭdĭc ̣i istaec ̣ essĕ u ̣eră d ̣amno c ̣um mag ̣no mĕo ̣.

LENA

̣si ecast ̣or nunc ̣ hăbĕas, q ̣uod des ̣, ălĭă u ̣erbă p ̣raehibĕa ̣s;

185

n ̣unc quĭă n ̣ĭhĭl hăb ̣es, mălĕd ̣ictis ̣t e eam duct ̣arĕ p ̣ostŭl ̣as. AMAT LENA

n ̣on mĕu ̣m est. nec m ̣ eum quĭd ̣em ĕdĕpŏl ̣ ad te ut m ̣ ittam g ̣ratĭi ̣s u ̣erum aet ̣atĭs ̣ atque hŏn ̣oris g ̣ratĭa h ̣oc fie ̣t tŭi ̣, q ̣uĭă nob ̣is lŭc ̣ro fŭi ̣sti p ̣ŏtĭus q ̣uam dĕcŏr ̣i tĭb ̣i: ̣si mĭhĭ d ̣antur d ̣ŭŏ tăl ̣enta arg ̣enti n ̣ŭmĕrat ̣a in măn ̣um, h ̣anc tĭbĭ n ̣octem hŏn ̣oris c ̣ausa g ̣ratĭi ̣s don ̣o dăb ̣o.

LENA

q ̣uid si n ̣on est? ̣t ĭbĭ non e ̣ssĕ c ̣redam, ill ̣a ălĭo ib ̣it tăm ̣ en.

AMAT

ŭ ̣bi ĭllaec q ̣uae dĕdi a ̣nte?

AMAT

LENA

ăbu ̣să. n ̣am si ĕă d ̣urar ̣ent mĭh ̣i, m ̣ ŭlĭer m ̣ ittĕr ̣etur ̣ ad te, n ̣umquam q ̣uidquam p ̣oscĕr ̣em.

190

195

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

BOY

Mme

BOY Mme

BOY Mme BOY Mme

19

fresh has got juice, fresh got sugar, sweet you can season any which way, 180 as in pan-fry or bakeria, you turn ’em which way you like. He wants to pay, wants his demand. See, here the order’s from full stores, he don’t know the sum he pays, the hole he’s making—loving the job: wants to pleasure playmate, wants it for me, wants it for lady’s page, wants it for slaves of the house, wants it for maids, too; plus, my pup gets sweet talk from the brand new lover, so he’s overjoyed 185 to see him. It’s the truth I tell: it’s fair each person should be smart for their trade. I’ve learned my lesson, this is the truth, with a vast loss come to me. Our Lady, if you could pay now, you’d have different words up front. Now ’cos you have nothing, you press for taking her home, with abuse. Not my scene. Not my scene, surely, to deliver her to you, 190 free. And yet, for the sake of your age and esteem, this shall be done, ’cos you have brought profit to us rather than kudos to yourself: if one-twenty minae are paid me, cash, counted out in my hand, then, out of esteem, I shall grant you . . . tonight . . . free . . . for a bonus. What if there’s zilch? I’ll credit your zilch—she’ll go 195 elsewhere, all the same. Where’s what I paid in the past? Spent ’n’ gone. If it was lasting me out, the She would be delivered to you, I’d never demand a thing.

20

Asinaria: The One about the Asses d ̣ĭem ăquam ̣solem ̣lunam n ̣octem ̣ | —haec arg ̣ento n ̣on ĕm ̣ o; c ̣etĕră q ̣uae nos u ̣ŏlŭmŭs u ̣ti G ̣ raeca m ̣ ercam ̣ ur fĭd ̣e. c ̣um a pist ̣orĕ p ̣anem p ̣ĕtĭmus, u ̣inum ex ̣ oenŏp ̣olĭo ̣,

200

̣si aes hăb ̣ent, dant m ̣ ercem: ĕa ̣dem n ̣os disc ̣iplin ̣a utĭm ̣ ur. ̣sempĕr ŏ ̣cŭlat ̣ae măn ̣us sunt n ̣ostrae, c ̣redunt q ̣uod uĭd ̣ent. u ̣ĕtŭs est: ‘n ̣ĭhĭli c ̣oactĭo ̣ est’—scis c ̣uius. n ̣on dic ̣o amplĭu ̣s.

AMAT

ă ̣lĭam n ̣unc mi or ̣atĭo ̣nem d ̣espŏlĭa ̣to p ̣raedĭc ̣as,

204

ă ̣lĭam atq ̣ue olim c ̣um illĭcĭe ̣bas m ̣ e ad te b ̣lande 206 ac b ̣ĕnĕdĭc ̣e. ̣t um mi aed ̣es quŏq ̣ue arrid ̣ebant c ̣um ad te u ̣ĕnĭeb ̣am tŭa ̣e. m ̣ e unĭc ̣e unum ex ̣ omnĭb ̣us te atq ̣ue illam ăm ̣ are aib ̣as mĭh ̣i. ŭ ̣bĭ quid d ̣ĕdĕram, q ̣uăsĭ cŏl ̣umbae p ̣ulli ĭn ̣ ore amb ̣ae mĕo ̣ u ̣sque ĕr ̣atis, m ̣ eo de ̣stŭdĭo ̣stŭdĭa ĕr ̣ant uest ̣ra omnĭa ̣ ,

210

u ̣sque ăd ̣haereb ̣atis. q ̣uŏd ĕgŏ ̣iussĕr ̣am, quod u ̣ŏlŭĕr ̣am, ̣făcĭeb ̣atis, q ̣uod nol ̣ebam ac u ̣ĕtŭĕr ̣am, de ind ̣ustrĭa ̣ ̣fŭgĭeb ̣atis, n ̣ĕquĕ con ̣ari id ̣făcĕre aud ̣ebat ̣is prĭu ̣s. n ̣unc nĕquĕ q ̣uid uĕl ̣im nĕquĕ n ̣olim ̣făcĭtis m ̣ agni, p ̣essĭm ̣ ae.

LENA

n ̣on tu ̣scis? hic n ̣oster q ̣uaestŭs ̣ auicŭp ̣i sĭm ̣ illĭm ̣ us est. a ̣uiceps q ̣uandŏ c ̣oncinn ̣auit ̣ arĕam, o ̣ffund ̣it cĭb ̣um; a ̣ssuesc ̣unt: nĕc ̣esse est ̣făcĕrĕ ̣sumptum q ̣ui quaer ̣it lŭc ̣rum.

215

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

21

Day ’n’ water ’n’ sun ’n’ moon ’n’ night . . . these things no cash buys me —the rest of the things we want to use, we purchase on Greek credit. When we go get bread from the baker, wine from the 200 marchant de vin, it’s “If they got brass, they give goods”: we apply the same regulation. Always open-eyed hands, that’s what we have: they credit what they see. Oldasthehills: “Credit limit zero,” you know who gets that—say no more. BOY

Changed! You plead in a different style, now that I’ve been 204 asset-stripped, Changed from way back when you were vamping me to 206 you, all sex ’n’ smarm. Then even walls had smiles, when I used to come to you, round at your place. “Of them all, I was your one ’n’ only love,” you’d tell me, from you ’n’ her. When I had paid up, like dove chicks, the pair of you, that’s what you were, all the way; and all your soft spots were copied from soft 210 spots of mine; all the way, you would cling on to me. My orders and my wishes, you did. My dislikes and my taboos, you took elaborate pains, and you did not. You’d run, you’d not have the nerve to do it, not before. Now, wish or veto, you don’t rate me high, worst women in the world.

Mme

Don’t you know? This trade of ours is most . . . like . . . 215 the . . . Catcher of Birds. When the fowler has prepared a piece of ground, he tips feed on it, the birds get used to it: investment’s a must if you want profit.

22

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ̣saepe ed ̣unt: sĕm ̣ el si ̣sunt capt ̣ae, rem ̣soluunt ̣ auicŭp ̣i. ̣ĭ tĭdem ăp ̣ud nos ̣: aedes n ̣obis ̣ arĕa ̣ est, auic ̣eps sum ĕg ̣o, e ̣sca est m ̣ ĕrĕtrix, ̣lectŭs ̣ illex ̣ est, ăm ̣ ator ̣es ău ̣es.

219+220

b ̣ĕnĕ săl ̣utand ̣o cons ̣uescunt, c ̣ompell ̣ando b ̣landĭt ̣er, o ̣scŭl ̣ando, or ̣atĭo ̣nĕ u ̣innŭl ̣a, uĕn ̣ustŭl ̣a. ̣si păp ̣illam p ̣ertract ̣auit ̣, haud ĭd ̣ est ab ̣re auicŭp ̣is, ̣sauĭu ̣m si ̣sumpsit, ̣sumĕre e ̣um lĭc ̣et sĭnĕ ̣retĭb ̣us.

225

AMAT

h ̣aecĭnĕ ̣t e esse obl ̣itum in ̣ludo q ̣ui fŭi ̣sti ̣t am dĭu ̣? ̣t ŭa ĭstă c ̣ulpa est, q ̣uae disc ̣ĭpŭlum ̣semĭd ̣octum abs ̣t e amŏu ̣es.

LENA

̣rĕmĕat ̣o audact ̣er, merc ̣edem ̣sĭ | ĕris n ̣actus. n ̣unc ăb ̣i.

AMAT

m ̣ ănĕ, măn ̣e, audi. d ̣ic, quid m ̣ e aequum c ̣enses p ̣ro illa ̣t ĭbĭ dăr ̣e, a ̣nnum hunc n ̣e cum q ̣uiquam ălĭo ̣ sit? ̣tunĕ? u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as, 230

LENA

a ̣tque ea ̣legĕ: ̣si ălĭŭs ̣ ad me p ̣rĭŭs att ̣ŭlĕrit, ̣t u uăl ̣e. AMAT LENA AMAT

ă ̣t ĕgo est ̣ ĕtĭam prĭŭs quam ăb ̣is quod u ̣ŏlŏ lŏq ̣ui. dic q ̣uod lĭb ̣et. n ̣on omn ̣ino ̣iam pĕrĭi ̣ est rĕl ̣ĭcŭum q ̣uo pĕrĕa ̣m măg ̣is. h ̣ăbĕo und ̣e istuc ̣t ĭbĭ quod p ̣oscis d ̣em, sĕd ̣ in leg ̣es mĕa ̣s

LENA

d ̣ăbo, ŭti ̣scirĕ p ̣ossis, p ̣erpĕtŭum a ̣nnum hanc m ̣ ĭhi ŭti ̣seruĭa ̣t n ̣ec quemq ̣uam intĕrĕa ă ̣lĭum adm ̣ ittat p ̣rorsus q ̣uam me ad ̣se uĭr ̣um. q ̣uin, si ̣t u uŏl ̣es, dŏmĭ ̣serui q ̣ui sunt c ̣astrab ̣o uĭr ̣os. p ̣ostrem ̣ o ut uŏl ̣es nos ̣ essĕ, ̣syngrăp ̣hum făcĭt ̣o affĕr ̣as;

235

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

BOY

Mme BOY

Mme

BOY Mme BOY

Mme

23

They eat often: just the once—if they’re caught—clears the catcher’s account. It’s the same way round ours: the house is our ground, 219+220 I play fowler, bait is the hooker, divan is vamp, and the lovers, they’re the birds. They get ’em used to it, with nice hello’s, and with sexy petnames, with kissing, with pleas that go, “a lil’ bit ‘wo,’ lil’ bit ‘wow.’” If a nipple gets fondled, that’s no skin off the bird-catcher’s nose. If a kiss gets snatched, he can just bag him, and no need 225 for a net. You have forgotten this stuff, after being so long in the school? That’s your fault. Expelling your pupil halfway through the syllabus. Come back, don’t be shy . . .—when, if, you get the finance. For now: so long. No, wait. Listen. Say, what do you reckon fair to pay you, for her, for her to go with no one else this year? For you? 230 Twenty minae. Plus this condition: should someone else fetch ’em first, it’s bye bye you. Umm, I . . . there’s . . . before you go . . . something I want to say. Say what you like. I’m not completely wasted. There’s what’s left—to help me waste some more. I have funds to pay what you demand. And I’ll pay, but on my terms. So you’re aware: (1) she’s to be my slave the whole livelong 235 year through, (2) she’ll, in the time stipulated, let no man near her but me. Why, if you like, the slaves I have at home, I shall go and neuter, the men. For clincher, see you fetch a contract, tell us the way you like us.

24

Asinaria: The One about the Asses u ̣t uŏl ̣es, ut ̣t ĭbĭ lĭb ̣ebit, n ̣obis ̣l egem imp ̣onĭt ̣o: m ̣ ŏdŏ tec ̣um una arg ̣entum aff ̣erto, ̣făcĭlĕ p ̣ătĭar c ̣etĕr ̣a.

240

p ̣ortĭt ̣orum ̣sĭmĭllĭm ̣ ae sunt ̣ianŭa ̣e len ̣onĭa ̣e: ̣si affers, ̣t um păt ̣ent, si n ̣on est q ̣uod des ̣, aedes n ̣on păt ̣ent. →

AMAT

̣intĕrĭi ̣ si n ̣on inu ̣ĕnĭo ĕg ̣o illas u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as, e ̣t prŏf ̣ecto, n ̣ĭsi ĭllud p ̣erdo arg ̣entum, p ̣ĕrĕund ̣um est mĭh ̣i. n ̣unc perg ̣am ad fŏr ̣um atque exp ̣ĕrĭăr ̣ ŏpĭbŭs ̣, omni c ̣opĭa ̣ , 245 ̣supplĭc ̣abo, ex ̣obsĕc ̣rabo ut q ̣uemque ăm ̣ icum u ̣idĕr ̣o, d ̣ignos, ̣indig ̣nos ăd ̣ire atq ̣ue ?expĕrir ̣i? cert ̣um est mĭh ̣i. n ̣am si m ̣ utŭa ̣s non p ̣ŏtĕro, c ̣ertum est ̣sumam ̣faenŏr ̣e.

→ LIB

SERVVS CALLIDVS = LIBANVS h ̣erclĕ u ̣ero, L ̣ĭbănĕ, n ̣unc te m ̣ ĕlĭus est ̣ experg ̣iscĭe ̣r e a ̣tqu arg ̣ento c ̣ompăr ̣ando ̣fingĕr ̣é fall ̣acĭa ̣m. ̣iam dĭu ̣ est fact ̣um cum d ̣iscest ̣i ăb ĕro atq ̣ue ăbĭist ̣i ad fŏr ̣um. ̣ĭ bĭ tu ăd ̣ hoc dĭe ̣ī ̣t empus d ̣ormĭt ̣auisti ĭn ̣ otĭo ̣.

→

250 251 253

q ̣uin tu abs ̣t e sŏc ̣ordĭam o ̣mnem ̣reice ac ̣segnĭtĭem a ̣mŏu ̣e a ̣tque ăd ̣ ingĕnĭu ̣m uĕt ̣us uers ̣utum ̣t e rĕcĭp ̣is tŭu ̣m? ̣serua ĕr ̣um, căuĕ ̣t ŭ | ĭdem ̣faxis ̣ ălĭi q ̣uod seru ̣i sŏl ̣ent, q ̣uĭ | ăd ĕr ̣i fraud ̣atĭo ̣nem c ̣allĭd ̣um ingĕnĭu ̣m gĕr ̣unt. u ̣ndĕ ̣sumam? q ̣uem interu ̣ertam? q ̣uo hanc cĕl ̣ocem c ̣onfĕr ̣am?

255

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

25

As you like it, what turns you on: load me up with conditions. Only—just fetch the cash along with you: I’ll stand the rest, 240 easy. Just like the door to a Customs House, same for the door to madame’s. Fetch stuff—open sesame. If you can pay zilch—the place is shut. BOY

→

I really am done for if I don’t come upon the twenty minae. For a fact, if I don’t waste the cash, it must be me gets wasted. Now I’ll head for the mall and give it a try, by hook or 245 by hock, get down on my knees ’n’ intensify pleas, as each friend comes in sight. High-ups, low-downs: go up to them and try it on, I’ve decided. → ’Cos if I can’t borrow ’em, I’ve decided, I’ll take out a loan.

→ LIB

SLAVE ONE: THE BRAINS = LIBANUS Well, lord, Libanus, you best get on and wake yourself up now, 250 and plot a cunning plan for organizing a bash at the cash. It was yonks ago you split from master, and went off to the mall. 251 There you slept like you’re on vacation, through to this 253 hour of the day. Why don’tcha throw off all your sluggishness and expel all your sloth? Wont’cha make a recovery, find your formerly versatile self? 255 Serfguard master. Don’t you do the same as other slaves normally do —applying talented brains to set up a swindle on master. Where’ll I take it from? Who’ll I send the wrong way? Where’ll I point my yacht?

26

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ̣i mpĕt ̣ritum, ĭn ̣augŭr ̣atum est: q ̣uouis ̣ admitt ̣unt ău ̣es, p ̣icŭs ̣ et corn ̣ix ab ̣laeua, c ̣oruus, p ̣arra ab d ̣extĕr ̣a

260

c ̣onsuad ̣ent. cert ̣um hercle est u ̣estram c ̣onsĕq ̣ui sent ̣entĭa ̣m. ̣sed quĭd ̣ hoc quod p ̣icŭs ̣ ulmum ̣t undĭt ̣? haud tĕmĕr ̣arĭu ̣m est. c ̣erte herc ̣le ĕgŏ quant ̣um ex aug ̣ŭrĭo hoc ̣ auspĭcĭo ̣que int ̣ellĕg ̣o, a ̣ut mĭh ̣i in mund ̣o sunt u ̣irgae aut ̣ atrĭe ̣nsi S ̣aurĕa ̣e. ̣sed quĭd ĭll ̣uc quŏd ̣ exănĭm ̣ atus c ̣urrĭt h ̣uc Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a?

265

m ̣ ĕtŭo q ̣uŏd ĭllĭc ̣ obscaeu ̣auit m ̣ eae fals ̣ae fall ̣acĭa ̣e.

→ LEO

+ SERVVS CURRENS = LEONIDA ŭ ̣bi ĕgŏ n ̣unc Lĭbăn ̣um rĕq ̣uiram aut ̣fămĭlĭa ̣rem ̣filĭu ̣m, ŭ ̣t ĕgo ill ̣os lĭb ̣entĭo ̣res ̣făcĭam q ̣uam Lĭb ̣entĭa ̣ est? m ̣ axĭm ̣ am praed ̣am et trĭu ̣mphum is ̣ affĕr ̣o aduent ̣u mĕo ̣.

{LIB}

q ̣uandŏ m 270 ̣ ecum p ̣ărĭter p ̣otant, p ̣ărĭter ̣scortar ̣i sŏl ̣ent, h ̣anc quĭd ̣em quam n ̣actus p ̣raedam p ̣ărĭter c ̣um illis p ̣artĭa ̣m. {i ̣llĭc hŏm ̣ o aedis c ̣ompil ̣auit, m ̣ orĕ ̣si fec ̣it sŭo ̣. ae u ̣ illi q ̣ui tam ind ̣ilĭg ̣entĕr ̣ obseru ̣auit ̣ianŭa ̣m.} a ̣etat ̣em uĕl ̣im seru ̣irĕ, L ̣ĭbănum ut c ̣onuĕnĭa ̣m mŏd ̣o. {m 275 ̣ ea quĭd ̣em herclĕ ̣libĕr ̣ ŏpĕra n ̣umquam ̣fies ̣ ocĭu ̣s.}

LEO

ĕ ̣tĭam d ̣e terg ̣o dŭc ̣entas p ̣lagas p ̣raegnat ̣is dăb ̣o.

{LIB}

{l ̣argit ̣ur pĕc ̣ulĭum, o ̣mnem in ̣t ergo ̣t hesaur ̣um gĕr ̣it.}

LEO

n ̣am si occ ̣asĭo ̣ni huic ̣t empus ̣sese ̣subterd ̣uxĕr ̣it, n ̣umquam ĕdĕp ̣ol quăd ̣rigis ̣ albis ̣ indĭp ̣iscet p ̣ostĕa ̣ . 280 ĕ ̣rŭm | ĭn ̣ obsĭdĭo ̣nĕ ̣linquet ̣, ĭnĭmic ̣um ănĭmos ̣ auxĕr ̣it. ̣sed si m ̣ ecum occ ̣asĭo ̣nem opp ̣rĭmĕre hanc q ̣uae obuen ̣it stŭd ̣et,

{LIB} LEO

m ̣ axĭm ̣ as ŏp ̣imĭt ̣ates, g ̣audĭo e ̣ffert ̣issĭm ̣ as, ecum p ărĭet n atoq u s ̣u is ĕr ̣is ill ̣e una m ̣ ̣ ̣ e et păt ̣ri, ̣ o em o ă ̣dĕ ŭt ̣ aetat ̣ amb amb ̣obus n ̣obis ̣sint obn ̣oxĭi ̣,

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

27

Now I’m father forward, unbirdened: the birds bless any direction. Woodpecker ’n’ crow to the left of me, raven, barn-owl to 260 the right. Same advice from all: I’ve decided, lord, I shall follow your line. But what’s this? Pecker bashes elm? Now that’s no way accidental. Sure, lord, I . . .—far as I can tell from the birden of the birdlore, birches either in store for me, or else they’re for steward Saurea. But what’s this? Gasping for breath, and steaming this way: 265 Leonida. I’m afraid—that bird’s put the mockers on my cheating cunning plan. → LEO

{LIB} LEO {LIB} LEO {LIB} LEO

+ SLAVE TWO IN A HURRY = LEONIDA Where o where shall I track down Libanus or our ’ouseold’s son so I can make ’em even more libidinous than Libido The biggest prize ’n’ triumph Thats what I’m fetchin’ ’em My grand entry Seein’ it’s on a par they drink with me go whorin’ on a par 270 now I’ve got this prize I shall share it with ’em on a par In part . . . {This person’s burgled a house, on his usual behaviour pattern. Damn blast the guy that got so casual about watching the door.} . . . I’d willin’ly slave all my time Just let me ’n’ Libanus meet . . . {Well, lord, nothing I do’s gonna get you your liberty 275 quicker.} . . . I’ll even pay off my own back two ’undred lashes worth of bump . . . {That’s him splashing out his stash. He carries his whole hoard on his back.} . . . ’cos if time does a disappearin’ trick on dis opportunity surely four white chargers won’ ever catch ’im nor ever after ’e’ll be leavin’ master under siege buildin’ up enemy morale 280 Where’s if we two look lively ’n’ we jump this break that’s come up then there’ll be the biggest bonanza stuffed to burstin’ with joy that he ’n’ me’ll spawn as one for his masters father & son so much both of them’ll be be’olden to both of us for life

28

Asinaria: The One about the Asses n ̣ostro d ̣euinct ̣i bĕnĕf ̣ĭcĭo.

{LIB}

LEO {LIB}

LEO

{LIB}

LEO {LIB} LIB LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO

LIB LEO

{‘u ̣inctos’ n ̣escĭŏq ̣uos ăit: n ̣on plăc ̣et: mĕtŭo ̣in comm ̣ unĕ n ̣e quam ̣fraudem f ̣rausŭs ̣sit.} p ̣ĕrĭi ĕg ̣o oppĭd ̣o nĭsĭ L ̣ĭbănum inu ̣ĕnĭo ̣iam, ŭbi ŭbi est g ̣entĭu ̣m. {i ̣llĭc hŏm ̣ o sŏcĭum a ̣d măl ̣am rem q ̣uaerit q ̣uem adiun ̣gat sĭb ̣i. n ̣on plăc ̣et: pro m ̣ onstro ext ̣emplo est q ̣uandŏ q ̣ui sud ̣at trĕm ̣ it.} ̣sed quĭd ĕg ̣o hic prŏpĕr ̣ans conc ̣esso p ̣ĕdĭbus, ̣lingua ̣largĭo ̣r? q ̣uin ĕg ̣o hanc iŭbĕo ̣ tăc ̣erĕ, q ̣uae lŏq ̣uens lăcĕr ̣at dĭe ̣m? {ĕ ̣dĕpŏl ̣ hŏmĭnĕm ̣ | infel ̣icem, q ̣ui păt ̣ronam c ̣omprĭm ̣ at. n ̣am si q ̣uid scĕl ̣este ̣fecit, ̣linguă p ̣ro illo p ̣eiiĕr ̣at.}

285

290

a ̣pprŏpĕr ̣abo, n ̣e post ̣t empus p ̣raedae p ̣raesĭdĭu ̣m păr ̣em. {q ̣uae illaec p ̣raeda est ̣? ibo adu ̣ersum atq ̣ue elect ̣abo, 295 q ̣uidquĭd ̣ est.} i ̣ŭbĕo ̣t e salu ̣erĕ u ̣ocĕ ̣summa, q ̣uoad uir ̣es uăl ̣ent. g ̣ymnăsĭu ̣m flăg ̣ri, salu ̣eto. q ̣uĭd ăgis, c ̣ustos c ̣arcĕr ̣is? o ̣ căt ̣enar ̣um cŏl ̣one. o u ̣irgar ̣um lasc ̣iuĭa ̣ . q ̣uot pond ̣o ted ̣ essĕ c ̣enses n ̣udum? n ̣on ĕdĕp ̣ol scĭo ̣. am e ̣scib ĕgŏ ̣t e nesc ̣ir , at p ̣ŏl ĕgŏ, q ̣ui ted ̣ expend ̣i, scĭo ̣:

300

n ̣udus u ̣inctus c ̣entum p ̣ondo es, q ̣uandŏ p ̣endes p ̣er pĕd ̣es. q ̣uo argum ̣ ento ist ̣uc? ĕgŏ d ̣icam q ̣uo argum ̣ ento et q ̣uo mŏd ̣o. a ̣d pĕd ̣es quand ̣o allĭg ̣atum est ̣ aequum c ̣entump ̣ondĭu ̣m, ŭ ̣bĭ măn ̣us mănĭc ̣ae comp ̣lexae ̣sunt atq ̣ue adduct ̣ae ad trăb ̣em,

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

{LIB}

LEO {LIB}

29

bound fast by our good turn . . . {“Bound,” he’s calling some 285 people or other: I disapprove. I’m afraid. He may’ve scammed some scam, for the team.} . . . I’ve straight ’ad it if I don’t find Libanus now where o where’s ’e . . . {This person’s after a partner in crime, to yoke up with him. That’s a no-no: it’s a red alert, shivering in a sweat is.}

LEO

{LIB}

LEO {LIB} LIB LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO

LIB LEO

. . . But I’m in a dash ’ere why cop out on feet but full on 290 with tongue Why don’ I tell it ’ush Its mutterin’s mutilatin’ the day . . . {Surely, a luckless person, having to go jump his patroness: See, anything he’s done devilish, Ms. Tongue does perjury for him.} . . . I’ll speed up so I don” fix the prize an escort after time’s up— {What “prize” is that? I’ll go right up and lure out whatever 295 it is.} IBIDYOUGOO’DAY, top of my voice, far’s my powers can muster. Goo’day workout centre for the whip How you doin’, prison screw? Awmighty grower of manacles Mighty orgasm of birches! How many pounds ya think ya weigh in ya skin? Surely, I dunno. I knew ya don’ know but sure I know ’cos I’m the one that 300 weighed ya In ya skin and bound you are way up at 1 cwt weighed by feet How d’you work that out? I’ll tell ya on what basis how it works out Once a fair level cwt has been strung up tight to the feet when the ’andcuffs hug ya ’ands in their clasp pulled up right to the beam

30

Asinaria: The One about the Asses n ̣ec dep ̣endes n ̣ec prop ̣endes —q ̣uin măl ̣us neq ̣uamquĕ ̣sis. 305

LIB LEO LIB

u ̣ae tĭb ̣i. istuc ̣t estam ̣ ento S ̣ eruĭt ̣us lĕg ̣at tĭb ̣i. u ̣erbiu ̣elĭt ̣atĭo ̣nem ̣f ĭĕri c ̣ompend ̣i uŏl ̣o.

LIB

q ̣uĭd ĭstuc ̣ est nĕg ̣oti? c ̣ertum est c ̣redĕr ̣e. audact ̣er lĭc ̣et.

LEO

̣siuis ăm ̣ anti ̣subuĕn ̣irĕ ̣fămĭlĭa ̣ ri ̣filĭo ̣,

LEO

̣t antum ăd ̣est bŏn ̣i improu ̣iso, u ̣erum c ̣ommixt ̣um măl ̣o:

310

o ̣mnes d ̣e nob ̣is carn ̣ĭfĭcum c ̣oncĕlĕb ̣rabunt ̣ur dĭe ̣s. L ̣ĭbănĕ, n ̣unc aud ̣acĭa u ̣sus est n ̣obis ̣ inuent ̣a et dŏl ̣is. ̣ ur dŭo ̣ ̣t antum ̣făcĭnus m ̣ ŏdŏ | inu ̣eni ĕg ̣o, ut nos d ̣icam

LIB

o ̣mnĭu ̣m dig ̣nissĭm ̣ i essĕ q ̣uo crŭcĭa ̣ tus c ̣onflŭa ̣ nt. e ̣rgo m ̣ irab ̣ar quod d ̣udum ̣scăpŭlae g ̣estib ̣ant mĭh ̣i,

315

h ̣ărĭŏl ̣ari q ̣uae occep ̣erunt ̣sĭbĭ | ess ̣e in mund ̣o măl ̣um.

LEO LIB

q ̣uidquĭd ̣ est, el ̣ŏquĕrĕ. m ̣ agna est p ̣raedă c ̣um magn ̣o măl ̣o. ̣si quĭd ̣em omnes c ̣oniur ̣ati c ̣rŭcĭam ̣ entă c ̣onfĕr ̣ant, h ̣ăbĕo ŏp ̣inor ̣fămĭlĭa ̣rem —t ̣ergum, n ̣e quaer ̣am fŏr ̣is.

LEO

̣si istam ̣firmĭt ̣udĭn ̣em ănĭmi | o ̣btĭn ̣es, salu ̣i sŭm ̣ us.

LIB

q ̣uin si ̣t ergo ̣res solu ̣enda est, ̣răpĕrĕ c ̣ŭpĭo p ̣ublĭc ̣um:

LEO

p ̣ernĕg ̣abo atq ̣ue obdur ̣abo, p ̣eiĕr ̣abo d ̣enĭq ̣ue. em istă uirtus est, quando usus est qui măl um fert fortĭt er: ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣fortĭt ̣er măl ̣um qui p ̣ătĭtŭr ̣, idem p ̣ost pŏtĭt ̣ur bŏn ̣um.

320

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

LIB LEO LIB

LEO LIB

LEO

LIB

LEO LIB

LEO LIB

LEO

31

ya ain’t way over, ya ain’t way under—. . . bein’ a no-good 305 thug Damn you. That’s what Mme Slavery is leavin’ you in her will This wordwarmongering! There’s some economizing I want done. What’s that prob of yours? Its decided: I’ll credit you. Feel free, be bold. Please come show support for the son in our ’ouseold the loverboy There’s that much of a good thing just turned up But jumbled 310 up with bad Thanks to us each day executioners will ’old a jamboree Libanus what we need now is to find us bravura and shtick There’s that much of a heist I’ve just found Pull it off ’n’ we two’ll be called the ’ombrés most deservin’—. . . of torture by the bucketful That’s why I’ve been amazed my shoulder-blades’ve been itching 315 for ages. They’ve started soothsaying what there is in store for them. Something bad. Whatever it is, air it. The prize is big In with a Big Bad. If one and all come join in and fetch the instruments of torture, I believe I do own a household . . .—back, no need to look outside. If ya keep possession of that strength of mind of yours then 320 we’re saved Look, if a back must clear the bill, I’m game, rob the National Bank. I’ll deny it all the way, stay tough, and it’s perjury for me. Pow that’s the cream of courage for ya When someone brave’s bad bravely “Bravely endure bad,” the sayin’ would run, “ensure good thereafter”

32

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

LIB

q ̣uin rem act ̣utum ed ̣issĕr ̣is? cŭpĭo ̣ măl ̣um nanc ̣iscĭe ̣r.

LEO

p ̣lăcĭde erg ̣o unum q ̣uidquid ̣rŏgĭta, ŭt ̣ acquĭe ̣scam. n ̣on uĭd ̣es e ex cursura ănhelĭt um ĕtĭam ducĕre? m ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ăge ăgĕ, m ̣ ansĕr ̣o . . .

LIB

325

. . . ̣t uo arbĭt ̣ratu, u ̣ĕl ădĕo u ̣squĕ d ̣um pĕr ̣ĭs. ŭbĭn ̣am est ĕru ̣s?

LEO

LEO

m ̣ aiŏr ăp ̣ud fŏr ̣um est, mĭnŏr ̣ hic est ̣ intus. ̣iam sătĭs ̣ est mĭh ̣i. t ̣um ĭgĭtur ̣t u diu ̣es es ̣factus? m 330 ̣ ittĕ ̣ridĭcŭl ̣arĭa ̣ ,

LIB

L ̣ĭbănĕ. m ̣ itto. ist ̣uc quŏd ̣ affers ̣ aures ̣ expect ̣ant mĕa ̣e.

LEO

ănĭmum adu ̣erte, ŭt ̣ aeque m ̣ ecŭm | h ̣aec scĭa ̣s.

LIB LEO LIB

tăcĕo ̣. bĕa ̣s.

LIB LEO

LIB

LEO

m ̣ ĕmĭnist ̣isne ăsĭn ̣os Arc ̣ădĭcos m ̣ ercat ̣ori P ̣ ellaĕo ̣ e n ̣ostrum u ̣endĕr ̣ atrĭe ̣nsem? m ̣ ĕmĭni. q ̣uid tum p ̣ostĕa ̣? 334+335

e ̣m ergo ĭs argent um huc rĕmisit, quod dăretur S aurĕae ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ prŏ | ăsĭnis. ădŭlescens uenit mŏdŏ, qui ĭd argent um attŭlit.

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

LEO

ŭ ̣bi ĭs hŏm ̣ o est? iam d ̣euor ̣andum c ̣enses, ̣si consp ̣exĕr ̣is?

LIB

̣ĭta ĕnim u ̣ero. ̣sed tăm ̣ en tu n ̣empe eo ̣s ăsĭnos p ̣raedĭc ̣as

LIB

u ̣ĕtŭlos, c ̣laudos, q ̣uĭbŭs subt ̣ritae ad ̣fĕmĭnă ̣iăm | ĕrant ̣ ungŭl ̣ae?

340

Asinaria: The One about the Asses LIB LEO

LIB

LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO

LIB LEO LIB LEO

LIB

LEO

LIB LEO LIB

33

Why don’t you tell the tale right away? I fancy bagging 325 The Bad. Gently then One question at a time to calm me down Can’t ya see I’m still pantin’ ’n’ gaspin’ from the ’urry There, there, I can wait . . . . . . It’s all up to you. All the way till you are . . . —dead. Well where’s master? Big master’s at the mall, little master’s in here. Enough for me. Did you just get rich quick, then? Do drop the stand-up 330 comedy bit, Libanus. Dropped it is. What’s that you’re fetching? Mine ears are a-g-o-g. Focus your mind. You’ll know it, I’ll know it, fair do’s. I’m shtoom. You saint. Recall an Assyrian dealer buying them Arcadian asses off our household steward? I do recall. So what is it comes 334+335 next? There. So. He’s only gone and sent the cash to be paid to Saurea for them asses. The young guy’s just got here, and he’s fetching the cash. Where is this person? Your immediate thought? “Swallow him whole. On sight.” Yes, just so, true. And yet, hang on, you must be meaning those donkeys— clapped-out, gone lame, the ones with their hooves worn 340 down right up to the hocks?

34

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

LEO

̣ipsos, q ̣ui tĭbĭ ̣subuect ̣abant ̣rure huc u ̣irgas ̣ ulmĕa ̣s.

LIB

̣t ĕnĕo, atq ̣ue idem ̣t e hinc uex ̣erunt u ̣inctum ̣rus.

LEO

mĕmŏr ̣ es prŏb ̣e. u ̣erum in ̣t onstrin ̣a ut sĕd ̣ebam, m ̣ e infit p ̣ercont ̣arĭe ̣r e ̣cquem ̣filĭu ̣m Străt ̣onis n ̣ouĕr ̣im Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣um. d ̣ico m ̣ e nou ̣isse ext ̣emplo et m ̣ e eius ̣seruum p ̣raedĭc ̣o

LIB LEO

345

e ̣sse, ĕt ̣ aedis d ̣emonst ̣raui n ̣ostras. q ̣uid tum p ̣ostĕa ̣? a ̣it se ŏb ̣ ăsĭnos ̣ferre arg ̣entŭm ̣ | atrĭe ̣nsi S ̣aurĕa ̣e. u ̣igint ̣i mĭnăs, ̣sĕd ĕum ̣sese n ̣on nouiss ̣e hŏmĭnem q ̣ui sĭe ̣t, ̣ipsum u ̣ero ̣se nou ̣issĕ c ̣allĭd ̣e Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣um. q ̣uŏnĭam ill ̣e elŏc ̣utŭs ̣ haec sic—

LIB LEO

—q ̣uid tum? ausc ̣ulta erg ̣o, scĭe ̣s.

350

e ̣xtemp ̣lo făcĭo ̣ făc ̣etum m ̣ e atquĕ m ̣ agnĭfĭc ̣um uĭr ̣um, e d ̣ico m ̣ ed ess ̣ atrĭe ̣nsem. ̣sic hoc ̣respond ̣it mĭh ̣i: ‘ĕ ̣gŏ pol S ̣aurĕa ̣m non n ̣oui n ̣ĕquĕ qua ̣făcĭe ̣sit scĭo ̣. ̣ aenĕt ̣um, ̣t e non ̣ aequum est ̣suscens ̣erĕ. ̣sĭ | ĕrum u ̣is Dem q ̣uĕm | ĕgŏ n ̣oui, add ̣uce: arg ̣entum n ̣on mŏr ̣abor q ̣uin 355 fer ̣as’. i um um ĕ ̣gŏ me d ̣ix ĕr ̣ adduct ̣ur et m ̣ e dŏm ̣ i praest ̣o fŏr ̣e. ̣i lle in b ̣ălĭnĕa ̣s ĭt ̣urus est ̣, inde huc u ̣ĕnĭet p ̣ostĕa ̣ . q ̣uid nunc c ̣onsĭl ̣i capt ̣andum c ̣enses? d ̣ic. LIB

em ist uc ăgo

̣

̣

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

35

LEO

That’s the ones. They once used to hump here the birches of elm for you. Got it. Same ones carted you off to the farm, bound fast. Good memory.

LIB

Now. There I was sitting in the barber’s, he starts questioning me. Do I know a son of Armée, by the name of Demaenetus? I say, “Yes, I know him,” right away, and pipe up “I am his 345 slave.” And I gave the directions to our house. So what is it comes next?

LEO LIB

LEO

LIB LEO

LIB

He says he’s carrying cash for asses to steward Saurea. Twenty minae. “But,” he says, “I don’t know that person from Adam,” Though, true, brainbox does know the man himself, i.e., Demaenetus. Now since he’d told me it all this way . . . —What next? —So listen, you’ll know. 350 Right then I fashion a facetious, epic-faceted, hero: me. I say that the steward is I. This was his answer to me: “Sure, I don’t know Saurea. And nor do I know what he looks like. It’s not fair if you get cross. Please get your master Demaenetus, him I do know, bring him to me. You’ll get cash, no stalling 355 from me.” I said I would bring master, and that I’d be home, at his service. He’s going off to the baths, and from there he’ll come here after that. Whaddya rate now to cop for a plan? Do say. Pow—here’s where I’m at.

36

Asinaria: The One about the Asses q ̣uomŏd ̣o argent ̣o interu ̣ertam ĕt ̣ aduent ̣orem et S ̣aurĕa ̣m. ̣i am hoc ŏpŭs ̣ est ex ̣ascĭa ̣to. n ̣am si ill ̣e argent ̣um prĭu ̣s

360

h ̣ospes ̣ huc aff ̣ert, cont ̣ĭnŭo n ̣os amb ̣o exclusi ̣ sŭm ̣ us.

n ̣am me hŏdĭe ̣ sĕn ̣ex sed ̣uxit ̣solum ̣sorsum ăb ̣ aedĭb ̣us, m ̣ ĭhĭ tĭb ̣ique int ̣ermĭn ̣atus n ̣os fŭt ̣uros ̣ ulmĕo ̣s, n ̣ĭ | hŏdĭe A ̣ rgy˘ ̣rippo | e ̣ssent u ̣igint ̣i argent ̣i mĭn ̣ae. ̣i ussit u ̣el nos ̣ atrĭe ̣nsem u ̣el nos ̣ uxor ̣em sŭa ̣m

365

d ̣efraud ̣arĕ, d ̣ixit ̣sese | ŏ ̣pĕram p ̣romisc ̣am dăr ̣e.

LEO LIB

n ̣unc tu ăb ̣i ad fŏr ̣um ăd ĕrum et n ̣arra haec ̣ ut nos ̣ actur ̣i sŭm ̣ us: ̣t e ex Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a fŭt ̣urum ess ̣e atrĭe ̣nsem S ̣aurĕa ̣m, d ̣um argent ̣um affĕr ̣at merc ̣ator p ̣rŏ | ăsĭn ̣is. făcĭam u ̣t iŭb ̣es. ĕ ̣go ĭllum int ̣ĕrĕa hic ̣ oblect ̣abo, p ̣rĭŭs si ̣forte adu ̣enĕr ̣it. 370

LEO

q ̣uĭd ăis? q ̣uid uis? p ̣ugno m ̣ alam ̣si tĭb ̣i perc ̣ussĕr ̣o,

LIB

m ̣ ox cum S ̣aurĕam ̣ĭ mĭtab ̣or, cău ̣eto n ̣e susc ̣ensĕa ̣s. h ̣erclĕ u ̣ero ̣t u cău ̣ebis n ̣e me att ̣ingas, ̣si săp ̣is,

LEO LIB

n ̣ĕ | hŏdĭe ̣ măl ̣o cum ausp ̣ĭcĭo n ̣omen c ̣ommut ̣auĕr ̣is. LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO

q ̣uaeso, aeq ̣uo ănĭmo p ̣ătĭtor. p ̣ătĭtor ̣t ŭ | ĭtem c ̣um ĕgŏ 375 te ̣rĕfĕrĭa ̣m. d ̣ico ŭt u ̣sus est ̣fĭĕri. d ̣ico herc ̣le ĕgŏ quŏq ̣ue ut fact ̣urŭs ̣sum. n ̣e nĕg ̣a.

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

37

How to send cash one way, and the visitor ’n’ Saurea another? This needs chop-chop, pdq. ’Cos if he fetches the cash here 360 first, this stranger in town, the pair of us are forthwith good as shut out. See, today the old boy took me off to one side, away from home. He threatened me and you: we are both going to be over-elmed, if there aren’t twenty minae of cash for Argyrippus by today. His order was, we can take his steward or we can take his 365 wife, and swindle ’em. He said he would back us up, the same either way. Now. You. Off to the mall to master, tell how we’re going to act.

LEO LIB

LEO LIB LEO

LIB

LEO LIB LEO LIB LEO

You’re going to stop being Leonida, you’re steward Saurea, till merchantman fetches us cash for asses. I’ll do what I’m told. I. Meantime, shall entertain him, if he happens to get here 370 first. Answer me this. Whassup? If my fist lands a punch bang on your jaw, in a mo’, when I’ll be playing “Saurea,” mind you won’t get cross. Lord, you’ll mind you don’t lay finger on me, not if you got any sense, case you find you changed your name on a day when the omens are bad. Please take it. In fairness. Same goes: you take it. When . . .— 375 I hit you back. I’m saying how it must go. I’m saying too, lord, how I shall go. Don’t say no.

38

Asinaria: The One about the Asses quin p ̣romitt ̣o, inquam, host ̣irĕ c ̣ontra ut m ̣ ĕrŭĕr ̣is.

LIB LEO

ĕgo ăbĕo, tu iam, scĭo, pătĭerĕ. ̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣sed quĭs hĭc ̣ est? ĭs ̣ est, i ̣lle est ̣ ipsus. ̣iam ĕgŏ rĕc ̣urro | h ̣uc. tu hunc ̣ intĕrĕa h ̣ic tĕn ̣e.

LIB

→→ MERC

u ̣ŏlŏ sĕn ̣i narr ̣arĕ. q ̣uin tuum off ̣ĭcĭum ̣făcĭs erg ̣o ac fŭg ̣is?

→ 380

+ MERCATOR CVM CRVMINA (+ PVER MVTVS) ut d ̣emonst ̣ratae ̣sunt mĭh ̣í, | hasc ̣e aedis ̣ esse ŏp ̣ortet Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣ŭs ŭbĭ d ̣icĭt ̣ur hăbĭt ̣are. i, p ̣ŭĕrĕ, p ̣ulta

381–503: iambic septenarii

LIB MERC LIB

atq ̣ue atrĭe ̣nsem S ̣aurĕa ̣m, si est ̣ intŭs ̣, euŏc ̣ato huc. quis n ̣ostras ̣sic fran ̣git fŏr ̣is? ŏh ̣e, inquam, ̣si quĭd ̣ audis. nem ̣ o ĕtĭam ̣t ĕtĭgit. ̣sanŭsn ̣e es? at c ̣enseb ̣am attĭg ̣isse

385

propt ̣ĕrĕa huc q ̣uĭa hăbeb ̣as ĭt ̣er. nol ̣o ĕgŏ fŏr ̣es cons ̣eruas mea ̣s a te u ̣erbĕr ̣arĭe ̣r. san ̣e ĕgŏ sum ăm ̣ icus n ̣ostris. MERC

pŏl ̣ haud pĕr ̣iclum est c ̣ardĭn ̣es ne ̣fŏrĭbŭs ̣ effrin ̣gantur,

LIB

si | ̣i stoc ̣ exemp ̣lo omnĭb ̣us qui q ̣uaerunt ̣respond ̣ebis. ĭt ̣a haec mor ̣ata est ̣ianŭá ̣: | ext ̣emplo ̣ianĭt ̣orem clam ̣ at, prŏc ̣ul si q ̣uem uĭd ̣et ir ̣e ad se c ̣alcĭt ̣ronem. sed q ̣uid uĕn ̣is? quid q ̣uaerĭt ̣as? Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣um uŏl ̣ebam.

MERC LIB

si ̣sit dŏm ̣ i, dic ̣am tĭb ̣i. quĭd ̣ eiŭs ̣ atrĭe ̣nsis?

MERC LIB

nĭhĭl ̣o măg ̣e intŭs ̣ est.

390

Asinaria: The One about the Asses LIB LEO

LIB

→→ MERC

LIB MERC LIB

MERC

LIB

MERC LIB MERC LIB

39

I hereby promise to make it quits as you’ll deserve. I, I am off. You will, I know, take it. But who’s this ’ere? It’s ’im, he’s the one. I’ll hurry. Back ’ere in no time. Meanwhile you hold ’im ’ere. → I wanna tell the old ’un. Why not play your role, run like 380 the windy? + MERCHANT WITH POUCH (+ PAGE, NON-SPEAKING PART) According to the directions given me, this must be the house, where I am told that Demaenetus has his home. Go on, boy, knock, and steward Saurea, if he’s inside, see that he gets called out here. Who’s smashing our door this way? Basta, I say, can you hear at all? No one even touched it. Are you well? Well, I reckoned you’d 385 touched it ’cos you were travelling this way. I do not want one of us slaves, my mate the door, to get a beating. ’Course I am all our lot’s friend. No danger, sure, the hinges aren’t going to get smashed off the doors, not if you reply on this model to everyone that calls by. That’s the character of Ms. Door. Right away yells to call 390 doorman, if she spots far off, coming her way, one with a kick like a mule. But why’re you here? Whaddya want? It was Demaenetus I wanted. If he was at home, I would tell you. Well, what about his steward? He’s no more in.

40 MERC

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ŭb ̣i est? ad ̣t onsor ̣em irĕ d ̣ixit.

LIB MERC LIB

conu ̣eni. ̣sed post n ̣on rĕd ̣it? non ̣ ĕdĕpol. q ̣uid uŏl ̣ebas?

395

LIB

arg ̣enti u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as, si ăd ̣esset ̣, accep ̣isset. qui p ̣ro istuc ̣? ăsĭnos u ̣endĭd ̣it Pell ̣aeo m ̣ ercat ̣ori merc ̣atu. ̣scĭŏ. tu id n ̣unc rĕf ̣ers? iam hic c ̣rede ĕum a ̣ffŭt ̣urum.

MERC

qua ̣făcĭe u ̣ester S ̣aurĕa ̣ est? si ĭs ̣ est, iam ̣scirĕ p ̣ŏtĕro.

LIB

măcĭl ̣entis m ̣ alis, ̣rufŭl ̣ús, ălĭq ̣uantum u ̣entrĭo ̣sus

MERC LIB MERC

400

trŭcŭl ̣entis ̣ ŏcŭlis, c ̣ommŏd ̣a stăt ̣ura, ̣t risti ̣fronte. MERC

non p ̣ŏtŭit p ̣ictor ̣rectĭu ̣s desc ̣ribĕr ̣e eius ̣formam.

LIB

atq ̣ue hercle ips ̣um ădĕo c ̣ontŭo ̣r: quass ̣anti c ̣ăpĭte inc ̣edit. quisq ̣ue obuĭam h ̣uic occ ̣essĕr ̣ít ir ̣ato, u ̣apŭl ̣abit. sĭquĭd ̣em hercle Aeă ̣cĭdĭn ̣is mĭn ̣is ănĭm ̣ isque exp ̣letus c ̣edit, 405 si m ̣ ed ir ̣atus ̣t ĕtĭgĕr ̣ít, ir ̣atus u ̣apŭl ̣abit.

MERC

→ ATR

+ ‘ATRIENSIS’ = SERVVS IRATVS (= SAVREA, A LEONIDA PERSONATVS) quĭd ̣ hŏc sĭt nĕg ̣oti n ̣emĭn ̣em meum d ̣ictum m ̣ agni ̣făcĕre? Lĭb ̣ănum in tonst ̣rinam ut ̣iussĕr ̣am uĕn ̣ire, is n ̣ullus u ̣enit. ne ill ̣e ĕdĕpol ̣t ergo et c ̣rurĭb ̣us cons ̣ŭlŭit ̣ haud dĕc ̣ore.

{MERC>LIB} {LIB>MERC} ATR>LIB

{nĭmĭs ̣ impĕrĭo ̣sus est.} {u ̣ae mĭh ̣í. |} hŏdĭe ̣ salu ̣erĕ ̣iussi Lĭbăn ̣um lib ̣ertum? ̣iam măn ̣u | em ̣ issus e ̣s?

410

Asinaria: The One about the Asses MERC LIB MERC LIB MERC LIB MERC LIB

MERC LIB

MERC LIB MERC

→ STEW

{MERC>LIB} {LIB>MERC} STEW>LIB

41

Where is he? Told me he was off to the barber’s. I met him. But he’s not come back since? Surely, no. Why’d you 395 want him? Twenty minae. He would’ve taken delivery, if he’d been here. That’s for what? Asses he sold to a merchant from Assyria. Trade. I know. You’re fetching it in now? I credit he’ll be here soon. What’s your Saurea look like? Is he the one? I’ll soon be able to know. Lean-jawed, rather tawnyish, with a pronounced surplus at the 400 belly; mean-eyed, a pretty fair size, and wearing a frown on his forehead. No painter could have got down his shape and kept so close to the line. Yep, lord, it really is, I got him in view. Head shakes as he walks. There’ll be a beating for anyone who meets him in a stew. If, lord, an Achilles’ menace ’n’ mettle fill him as he walks, 405 still, one finger on me in his stew, he’ll get beat up in his stew. + STEWARD = SLAVE IN A STEW (= SAUREA, TAKEN OFF BY LEONIDA) What’s this prob? Nobody rates what I tell them as worth all that much? Libanus. My orders were to come to the barber’s. He did not. Means that, surely, he’s not looked out for back and legs, good and proper. {It’s Commander O.T.T.} {Ow, damn me.} My order of the 410 day’s “Libanus liberated, goo’day”? Just done, your manumission?

42

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

ATR>LIB

obsĕc ̣ro te. ne ̣t u herclĕ c ̣um mag ̣no măl ̣o mĭh ̣i obuĭam o ̣ccess ̣isti.

LIB>ATR

cur n ̣on uen ̣isti, ut ̣iussĕr ̣am, in tonst ̣rinam? hic m ̣ e mŏr ̣atus est.

ATR>LIB

sĭquĭd ̣em herclĕ n ̣unc summ ̣ um Iŏu ̣em te d ̣icas d ̣etĭnŭi ̣sse

{LIB>MERC}

atq ̣ue is prĕc ̣ator ̣ adsĭe ̣t, măl ̣am rem ef ̣fŭgĭes n ̣umquam.

415

tu, u ̣erbĕr ̣o, impĕrĭu ̣m mĕu ̣m cont ̣empsist ̣i? {pĕrĭi, h ̣ospes.}

{LIB>MERC} MERC>ATR

quaes ̣o herclĕ n ̣oli, S ̣aurĕá ̣, mea c ̣ausa hunc u ̣erbĕr ̣are.

ATR MERC>ATR

ŭtĭn ̣am nunc ̣stĭmŭlŭs ̣ in măn ̣u mĭhĭ ̣sit— —quĭe ̣scĕ, q ̣uaeso.

ATR>LIB

—qui ̣lătĕră c ̣ontĕr ̣am tŭá ̣, quae occ ̣allŭe ̣rĕ p ̣lagis.

ATR>MERC

absc ̣ede ac ̣sĭnĕ me hunc p ̣erdĕr ̣é, qui ̣semper m ̣ e ira inc ̣endit, cu i n ̣umquam un ̣am rem m ̣ e lĭc ̣et sĕm ̣ el praec ̣ĭpĕrĕ ̣furi,

420

quin c ̣entĭe ̣ns ĕăd ̣em impĕr ̣em atque ogg ̣annĭam, ̣ĭ tăque ̣iam hercle clam ̣ ore ac ̣stŏmăcho n ̣on quĕo ̣ lăb ̣ori ̣suppĕdĭt ̣are. iuss ̣ine, scĕl ̣este, ab ̣ianŭa ̣ | hoc ̣stercŭs ̣ hinc auf ̣erri? iuss ̣ine cŏl ̣umnis d ̣eĭc ̣i | ŏpĕr ̣as ăr ̣anĕo ̣rum?

425

iuss ̣ine in ̣splendor ̣em dăr ̣i bull ̣as has ̣fŏrĭbus n ̣ostris? nĭhĭl ̣ est. tamq ̣uam si c ̣laudŭs ̣sim, cum ̣fusti est ̣ ambŭl ̣andum. quĭă ̣t ridŭum h ̣oc un ̣um mŏd ̣o fŏr ̣o ŏpĕram ass ̣ĭdŭam d ̣edo, dum ̣rĕpĕrĭa ̣m qui q ̣uaerĭt ̣et arg ̣entum in ̣faenŭs ̣, hic uos

Asinaria: The One about the Asses {LIB>MERC} STEW>LIB

LIB>STEW STEW>LIB

{LIB>MERC} MERC>STEW STEW MERC>STEW STEW>LIB STEW>MERC

43

{Help!} Means for sure, you done crossed my path. Lord, walked right in, with a Big Bad. Why ’d you not come, as per orders, to the barber’s? He held me up. If you said, lord, you were detained by Jove the Almighty himself, were He here to pray mercy for you . . .—you’ll never get off 415 Bad News. You whipping boy. Scoffed at my command, did you? {I’ve had it, guest, friend.} Please, Saurea, lord, don’t give him a beating, not for my sake, no. Right now, wish I’d got a whip here in my hand . . . —P-lease, do be calm. . . . so I could give those hips of yours a good scour, so toughened to blows. Back off. Let me waste ’im. He’s always the fire-starter for 420 my stew. I never can give him orders the once, not one single thing, the thief. No. A hundred times must I give—no, bark—the same commands—so now, lord, with the decibels of spleen. I just can’t keep up with the work. Ordered or not: first, this shit here, for fetching away from the door? Ordered second: the spiders’ handiwork, knocking off the 425 columns? Ordered third: these here door studs, putting a shine on ’em for our doors? Nought out of three. As if I’m lame, I have to walk round with a stick. ’Cos just these 1-2-3 days past, I’ve assigned full time to the mall, while I’m hitting the “Desperately seeking cash loan,” here you lot

44

{LIB>MERC} MERC>ATR

Asinaria: The One about the Asses dorm ̣ itĭs ̣ intĕrĕa ̣ dŏm ̣ i atque ĕrŭs ̣ ĭn hăra, haud ̣ aedĭbŭs ̣, hăbĭtat. em ergo hoc tĭbi. ̣ {h ̣ospes, ̣t e obsĕc ̣ro, def ̣endĕ.} S ̣aurĕa, o ̣ro a mĕa ̣ caus ̣ ut mitt ̣as. ĕh ̣o, ecquis p ̣ro uect ̣ura ŏl ̣iui

ATR>LIB LIB>ATR ATR

430

rem ̣soluit? ̣soluit. c ̣u i dăt ̣um est? Stĭc ̣ho uĭc ̣arĭo ̣ipsi

LIB

tuo. ATR

u ̣áh, del ̣enir ̣e appăr ̣as, scĭŏ m ̣ i uĭc ̣arĭum e ̣sse, nĕque ĕo e ̣ssĕ ̣seruum ĭn ̣ aedĭb ̣ús | erĭ q ̣ui sit p ̣luris q ̣uam ille est. sed u ̣ină q ̣uaĕ | hĕri u ̣endĭd ̣i uin ̣arĭo E ̣xaer ̣ambo,

435

iam p ̣rŏ | ĕis ̣sătĭs fec ̣it Stĭc ̣ho? LIB ATR

LIB ATR LIB

fec ̣issĕ ̣sătĭs ŏp ̣inor. nam u ̣idi huc ̣ ipsum add ̣ucĕr ̣e trăp ̣ezit ̣am Exaer ̣ambum. sic d ̣ĕdĕro. p ̣rĭŭs quae c ̣redĭd ̣i, uix ̣ anno p ̣ost ex ̣egi: nunc ̣sătăgĭt ̣, adduc ̣it dŏm ̣ úm | ĕtĭam u ̣ltro et ̣scribit 440 n ̣ummos. Drŏm o merc edem r ettŭl it? ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ dim ̣ ĭdĭo m ̣ ĭnŭs ŏp ̣inor. quid ̣rĕlĭcŭum? a ̣ibat ̣reddĕr ̣é cum ext ̣emplo ̣reddĭt ̣um esset. nam ̣rĕtĭner ̣i, ut quod ̣sit sĭb ̣í | ŏpĕr ̣is lŏc ̣atum eff ̣ĭcĕret.

ATR LIB

scy˘p ̣hos quos ̣ utend ̣os dĕd ̣i Phĭlŏd ̣amo, ̣rettŭl ̣itne? non ̣ ĕtĭăm.

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

{LIB>MERC} MERC>STEW

STEW>LIB LIB>STEW STEW LIB

STEW

LIB STEW

LIB STEW LIB

STEW LIB

45

back home sleep the while, and master’s abode is a sty, not a 430 house. Pow, you got it coming. {Help me, guest, friend, I beg you.} Saurea, please. For my sake, do let him be. Hey. Olives, shipment of: somebody cleared the bill? Bill cleared. Payment made to . . . ? Le Compte himself. Deputy to you. Pah. You’re trying t’ soft soap me. I know my own Deputy. And no there ain’t a slave in master’s house that’s worth more 435 than he is, Now, wine: sold yesterday, by me. To Extraordinaire, the wine-mart. Le Compte satisfied now for that lot? I guess he’s been satisfied. ’Cos I saw him bring the banker in person. That Extraordinaire. The way to pay. Last credit from me barely recouped one year down. Now, he satisfies. Glad to bring him to our base. And, signs for 440 dosh. Le Coureur: fee fetched and paid in? 50% short is my guess. The balance, then? He said yes, it’s in . . .—the moment it’s in to him. ’Cos it’s withheld, so he’ll complete the worksheet sub-contracted to him. Goblets handed to Philodamus, for the use of: returned, no? Not yet.

46 ATR {MERC>LIB} {LIB>ATR}

{ATR>LIB} {MERC>LIB}

MERC>ATR ATR>MERC

MERC

ATR

Asinaria: The One about the Asses | h ̣em non? ̣si uĕl ̣is, da, c ̣ommŏda 445 hŏm ̣ ico. ̣ ĭni ăm i am e o o {pĕrĭ h ̣erclĕ, ̣i hic m ăb ̣egĕr ̣it sŭ ŏ ̣dĭ .} {heus ̣iam săt ̣is tu.

aud ̣isne quae ̣lŏquĭtur ̣} {audĭo e ̣t quĭe ̣sco.} {t ̣andem, ŏp ̣inor, cont ̣ĭcŭit. n ̣unc ădĕam o ̣ptĭm ̣ um est, prĭŭs q ̣uam incĭp ̣it tinn ̣ire.} quam m ̣ ox mi ŏpĕr ̣am das ̣? eh em, optĭme. quam dudum ̣ ̣ ̣t u aduen ̣isti? non ̣ herclĕ ̣t e prou ̣idĕr ̣am —quaes ̣o, ne u ̣ĭtĭo u ̣ertas—

450

ĭt ̣a irac ̣undĭa o ̣bstĭt ̣ít ŏcŭl ̣is. non m ̣ irum ̣factum est.

sed ̣si dŏm ̣ aenĕt ̣um uŏl ̣ebam. ̣ i est, Dem n ̣ĕgăt ess ̣e intus. uer ̣um istuc ̣ argent ̣um tăm ̣ en mĭhĭ ̣si uis d ̣enŭmĕr ̣are, am rĕp ̣romitt ̣ istoc n ̣omĭn ̣é sŏl ̣utam ̣rem fŭt ̣uram.

sic p ̣ŏtĭŭs ̣ ut Dem 455 ̣ aenĕt ̣o tĭbi ĕr ̣o praes ̣entĕ ̣reddam. LIB>MERC ĕrŭs ̣ istunc n ̣ouit ̣ atque ĕr ̣um híc. MERC>LIB+ATR ĕr ̣o huic praes ̣entĕ ̣reddam. am LIB>MERC da m ̣ ŏdŏ mĕo ̣ pĕr ̣icŭl ̣o, rem ̣salu ĕg ̣o exhĭb ̣ebo. MERC

nam ̣si scĭa ̣t nost ̣er sĕn ̣ex fĭd ̣em non ̣ esse huic ̣ hăbĭtam, susc ̣ensĕa ̣t, cui | o ̣mnĭu ̣m rer ̣um ipsus ̣semper c ̣redit. ATR

non m ̣ agni p ̣endo. n ̣e dŭī ̣t, si n ̣on uult. ̣sic sĭn ̣e astet.

{LIB>MERC}

{da, inq ̣uam. uah, ̣formid ̣o mĭs ̣er ne hic m ̣ e tĭb ̣i arbĭt ̣retur

460

Asinaria: The One about the Asses STEW {MERC>LIB} {LIB>STEW}

{STEW>LIB} {MERC>LIB}

MERC>STEW STEW>MERC

MERC

“No”? Ugh. If you like, give it away: be nice to a friend.

47 445

{Lord, I’ve had it. This mo’, his puke’ll chase me off.} {Hey. Enough now, you hear what he is saying?} {I do. I’ll simmer down.} {At last. I guess he’s hushed, now’s best to approach him. Before the tinnitus begins.} How soon can you see to me? Oops. Great. How long since you got here, sir? No, lord, I never saw you coming—will you please take no 450 offence)— Getting in a stew like that blocked my eyes. No surprises there, then.

Now. If he’s home, I’m after Demaenetus. He says he’s not in. But that cash of yours, nonetheless, if you will count it me out, I’ll promise back that the account down under your name will be cleared. MERC This way, instead: I’ll deliver it you, master in attendance. 455 LIB>MERC Master knows him, he knows master. MERC>LIB+STEW I’ll pay him, master attending. LIB>MERC Just hand it over, risk all my own. I’ll have the account cleared safe. See, if our top elder knew this guy hadn’t had trust shown to him, he’d be cross, and himself always gives him universal credit. STEW No big deal to me. Won’t pay, need not. Leave him on stand-by, 460 just so. {LIB>MERC} {Pay, I say. Yukkh, poor me, I dread it, he’ll judge that I advised you STEW

48

Asinaria: The One about the Asses suas ̣issĕ ̣sĭbĭ ne c ̣redĕr ̣es. da, q ̣uaeso, ac n ̣e form ̣ ida: salu ̣um hercle ĕr ̣it.}

{LIB>MERC}

{cred ̣am fŏr ̣é —dum q ̣uĭdem ĭpse in m ̣ ănŭ | hăb ̣ebo. pĕrĕg ̣rinŭs ̣ ĕgŏ sum, S ̣aurĕa ̣m non n ̣oui.} {at n ̣oscĕ ̣sane.}

{MERC>LIB}

{sit, n ̣on sit, n ̣on ĕdĕp ̣ol scĭo ̣. si ĭs ̣ est, ĕum e ̣sse ŏp ̣ortet.

{MERC>LIB}

465

ĕgŏ c ̣erte m ̣ e incert ̣o scĭo h ̣oc dăt ̣urum n ̣emĭn ̣i hŏmĭni.} ATR>LIB

herc ̣le istum d ̣i omnes p ̣erdŭī ̣nt. uerb ̣o căuĕ ̣supplĭc ̣assis.

ATR>MERC

fer ̣ox est u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as mĕa ̣s tract ̣arĕ ̣sese. nem ̣ o accĭpĭt ̣, aufer ̣te dŏm ̣ um. absced ̣e hinc, mŏl ̣estus n ̣e sis.

MERC>ATR

ATR>LIB LIB>MERC {LIB>MERC} ATR>LIB LIB>MERC {LIB>MERC}

MERC>LIB+ATR

nĭmĭs ̣ irac ̣unde. n ̣on dĕc ̣et sŭp ̣erbum ess ̣e hŏmĭnem ̣seruum.

470

măl ̣o herclĕ ̣iam mag ̣no tŭo ̣, ni ist ̣i nec ̣recte d ̣icis. imp ̣urĕ, n ̣ĭhĭli. {n ̣on uĭd ̣es ir ̣asci?} p ̣ergĕ p ̣orro. flăg ̣ĭtĭŭm ̣ | hŏmĭnis. {d ̣a, obsĕcr ̣o, argent ̣um huic, ne m ̣ ălĕ lŏq ̣uatur.} măl ̣um herclĕ u ̣obis q ̣uaerĭt ̣is. crur ̣a herclĕ d ̣iffring ̣entur,

ATR>LIB

ni ist um impŭdicum percĭes. ̣

{LIB} LIB>MERC

̣

̣

̣

{pĕrĭi h ̣ercle.} ăg ̣e, impŭd ̣ice, scĕl ̣estĕ, n ̣on aud ̣es mĭh ̣í scĕl ̣esto ̣subuĕn ̣ire?

475

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

{MERC>LIB}

{LIB>MERC} {MERC>LIB}

STEW>LIB

STEW>MERC MERC>STEW

STEW>LIB LIB>MERC {LIB>MERC} STEW>LIB LIB>MERC {LIB>MERC}

49

not to give him the least credit. Pay, please, and don’t you dread a thing. Lord, it will be safe.} {I’ll credit it will, long’s it’s . . .—here, in my hand. I come from abroad. I don’t know Saurea.} {Get to know him, then.} {Him? Not him? . . . Surely, I dunno. If it is, it just must be him. 465 I am certain I’ll pay this to no person where I’m uncertain.} Lord, may the pantheon waste him. Mind you don’t kneel to him out loud. He’s running wild from getting to handle twenty minae of mine. No one takes delivery. Fetch yourself home. Push off, don’t be a pain. O.T.T. stewing. That’s wrong: overblown pride from a slave 470 person. Lord, a Big Bad’s all yours, unless you talk to him right out of line. Unclean! S.F.A.! {See him stewing?} Keep going, you, right on. Scandal person! {Pay him the cash, I beg, or else he’ll badmouth you.}

MERC>LIB+STEW You two, lord, are asking for bad. STEW>LIB

{LIB} LIB>MERC

Your legs, lord, they will get shattered, if you don’t stun sir shameless. {Lord, I’ve had it.} Come on, sir shameless, 475 you’re the accursed, won’t you just dare . . .—come and rescue me, the accursed?

50

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

MERC>ATR

perg ̣isne prĕc ̣ari p ̣essĭm ̣ o? quae ̣res? tune ̣libĕr ̣o hŏmĭni

ATR>MERC

mălĕ ̣seruus ̣lŏquĕrĕ? u ̣apŭl ̣a.

ATR>LIB

MERC>ATR

id quĭd ̣em tĭb ̣i herclĕ ̣fiet ut u ̣apŭl ̣es, Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣um sĭmŭl ̣ ac consp ̣exĕr ̣o hŏdĭe.

ATR>MERC MERC>ATR ATR>MERC MERC>ATR ATR>MERC MERC>ATR ATR>MERC

in ̣ius uŏc ̣o te. n ̣on ĕo ̣. non ̣ is? mĕm ̣ ento. m 480 ̣ ĕmĭni. dăbĭt ̣ur pol ̣supplĭcĭu ̣m mĭh ̣í de ̣t ergo u ̣estro. u ̣ae te. tĭbĭ q ̣uĭdĕm suppl ̣ĭcĭum, c ̣arnĭf ̣ex, ?de n ̣obis d ̣etŭr? ătq ̣ue ĕtĭam? i pro d ̣ictis u ̣estris m ̣ ălĕdic ̣is poen ̣ae pend ̣entur m ̣ hŏdĭe. o s e quid, u ̣erbĕr ̣ ? a i n tu, ̣furcĭf ̣er? nosm ̣ et fŭgĭt ̣arĕ 484+485 c ̣enses? i n ̣uncĭam ă ̣d ĕrum, q ̣uo uŏc ̣as, iamd ̣udum q ̣uo uŏl ̣ebas.

ATR>MERC

nunc d ̣emum? ̣t ămĕn numq ̣uam hinc fĕr ̣es arg ̣enti n ̣ummum, n ̣ĭsĭ me dărĕ ̣i ussĕr ̣it Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣ús. ĭtă ̣făcĭto, ăg ̣e ambŭl ̣a ergo.

MERC>ATR

tu c ̣ontŭm ̣ elĭam a ̣ltĕr ̣i făcĭa ̣s, tĭbĭ n ̣on dic ̣atur? am o t ĕg ̣ hŏmŏ sum q ̣uam tu. ̣scilĭc ̣ét. ĭtă ̣res est.

MERC>ATR

ATR>MERC

̣sĕquĕre hac e ̣rgo. 490 i o e praef ̣iscĭn ̣ hoc nunc d ̣ixĕr ̣im: nem ̣ ĕtĭam m ̣ accus ̣auit mĕrĭt ̣o mĕo ̣, nĕquĕ m ̣ e altĕr ̣ est Ăt ̣henis ̣ hŏdĭe q ̣uisquam cu i c ̣redi ̣recte aeq ̣ue pŭt ̣ent.

Asinaria: The One about the Asses STEW>LIB MERC>STEW

STEW>MERC MERC>STEW

STEW>MERC MERC>STEW STEW>MERC MERC>STEW STEW>MERC MERC>STEW STEW>MERC

MERC>STEW

STEW>MERC

MERC>STEW STEW>MERC

51

Keeping on praying to the pits? What’s this going on? A free person, and you a slave badmouth him? Get beaten. Lord, you got it coming, your beating. The minute I clap eyes on Demaenetus today. I’m taking you to court. I won’t go. Won’t go? Don’t forget. I won’t. 480 Sure and it’s retribution will be mine. On your back. Goddam you. Retribution will be yours, executioner? On me? Yes, plus the penalty for your verbal abuse will be paid me today. You what, whipping boy? You don’t say, ball-’n’-chain? Think 484+485 we’ll bolt for it? Off, now, to master. Where you’re “taking” us. Where you’ve wanted long since. Now? At last. Still, you’ll never fetch one coin from this cash, not unless Demaenetus orders me to pay. That’s the way. So . . .—get walking. You can use vitriol on a twin, and have none spoken at you? I’m a person as much as you. Course. That’s life. So this way, 490 follow. Now let me say this, no skin off your nose: no one’s ever taken me to court and me deserve it. There’s no one else in today’s Athens they reckon gets so much credit, as me, right ’n’ proper.

52 MERC>ATR

Asinaria: The One about the Asses fort ̣assis. ̣sed tăm ̣ en me numq ̣uam hŏdĭe ̣i nduces ̣ ut tĭb ̣i cred ̣am hoc arg ̣entum ig ̣noto. lŭpŭs ̣ est hŏm ̣ o, cum q ̣ualis ̣sit ̣ o hŏmĭni, n ̣on hŏm 495 non n ̣ouit.

ATR>MERC

iam n ̣unc sĕc ̣undă m ̣ ĭhĭ făc ̣is. scib ̣am huic te c ̣ăpĭtŭl ̣o hŏdĭe fact ̣urum ̣sătĭs pro ini ̣urĭá ̣. quamq ̣uam ĕgŏ sum ̣sordĭd ̣atus, frug ̣i tăm ̣ en sum, n ̣ec pŏt ̣est pĕc ̣ulĭum e ̣nŭmĕr ̣ari.

MERC>ATR ATR>MERC

fort ̣assĕ. | ĕ ̣tĭam P ̣ĕrĭphăn ̣es Rhŏd ̣o merc ̣ator d ̣iues abs ̣ente ĕr ̣o sol ̣us mĭh ̣í tăl ̣entum arg ̣enti ̣soli ann ̣ŭmĕrau ̣it et c ̣redĭd ̣it mĭhĭ, n ̣ĕquĕ dec ̣eptus est ̣ ĭn ĕō.

500

ATR>MERC

fort ̣asse. atq ̣ue ĕtĭam ̣t u quŏq ̣ue ipsĕ, ̣si esses p ̣ercont ̣atus

MERC>ATR

me ex ̣ ălĭis, ̣scĭŏ pol c ̣redĕr ̣es nunc q ̣uod fers ̣. haud nĕg ̣assim. → → → →

MERC>ATR

→→ LENA

PHIL

LENA + MERETRIX = PHILAENIUM n ̣ĕquĕon ̣e ĕgŏ ted ̣ interd ̣ictis ̣făcĕrĕ m ̣ ansuet ̣em mĕi ̣s? ?ăn ĭtă tŭ es ănĭmat a, ut qui matrĭs expers ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ impĕrĭi ̣s sĭe ̣s?? ŭ ̣bĭ pĭe ̣m Pĭĕt ̣atem, ̣si istoc m ̣ orĕ m ̣ orat ̣am tĭb ̣i p ̣ostŭl ̣em plăc ̣erĕ, m ater, m ĭhĭ quo p ̣acto p ̣raecĭp ̣is? ̣ ̣

LENA

a ̣n dĕc ̣orum est ̣ aduers ̣ari m ̣ eis te p ̣raecept ̣is?

PHIL

quĭd ̣ est? h ̣ocĭn ̣e est pĭĕt ̣atem c ̣ŏlĕrĕ, m ̣ atri imp ̣ĕrĭum m ̣ ĭnŭĕr ̣e? n ̣ĕquĕ quae ̣recte ̣făcĭunt c ̣ulpo n ̣ĕquĕ quae d ̣elinq ̣uunt ăm ̣ o.

LENA PHIL

504–44: trochaic septenarii 505

510

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

53

MERC>STEW

P’raps, and yet you’ll never lure me to credit you with this cash today. Unknown. A man’s a wolf, not a man . . .—to a man who don’t know 495 what he’s like.

STEW>MERC

The way you’re behaving now suits me. I just knew you would give me satisfaction for damage to this noddle. Although I am grubby, still I am good as gold, and . . .—my stash it just cannot be counted.

MERC>STEW

P’raps. Even His Éminence, loaded merchant from Rhodes, today paid me sixty minae cash, solo—master not in attendance— 500 counted it up, giving me credit, and in that, he wasn’t conned.

STEW>MERC

MERC>STEW STEW>MERC

MERC>STEW

P’raps. You yourself, too, if you’d checked me out proper with other folk, I know sure you’d credit me with what you bring now. I shan’t dissent. →→→→

→→ Mme

PHIL

Mme PHIL Mme PHIL

MADAME + WHORE = PHILAENIUM Have I really no way to tame you to obey when I say no? You’re not minded of parting from mother’s command, 505 are you, this way? How could I be Devotion’s devotee, if I demanded, in your way, that my ways win your approval, mama . . .—as you teach me? So it’s decent for you to stand up to my teachings, is it? What? So, this is tending Devotion, then: shrinking mothers’ command? I don’t slate what they do right. I don’t love what they do 510 wrong, either.

54 LENA PHIL

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ̣sătĭs dĭc ̣acŭl ̣a es ăm ̣ atrix. m ̣ atĕr ̣, is quaest ̣us mĭh ̣i est: ̣linguă p ̣oscit, c ̣orpus q ̣uaerĭt ̣, ănĭmŭs ̣ orat, ̣res mŏn ̣et.

LENA PHIL

LENA PHIL

ĕ ̣gŏ te u ̣ŏlŭi c ̣astig ̣arĕ, ̣t u mĭhi ăcc ̣usat ̣rix ăd ̣es. n ̣ĕque ĕdĕp ̣ol te acc ̣uso n ̣ĕque ĭd me ̣făcĕrĕ ̣fas ex ̣istĭm ̣ o. um illo quĕm | ămo e a s quĕr or fort unas, c u ̣erum ĕgŏ m ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ p ̣rŏhĭbĕo ̣r. e ̣cquă p ̣ars or ̣atĭo ̣nis d ̣e dĭe ̣ dăbĭt ̣ur mĭh ̣i? e ̣t mĕa ̣m part ̣em lŏq ̣uendi | e ̣t tŭa ̣m trad ̣o tĭb ̣i. a ̣d lŏq ̣uendum atq ̣ue ad tăc ̣endum ̣t ute hăbĕa ̣s port ̣iscŭl ̣um. q ̣uin pol ̣si rĕpŏs ̣iui ̣remum, ̣sola ĕg ̣o in cast ̣erĭa ̣ ŭ ̣bĭ quĭe ̣sco, omn ̣is făm ̣ ĭlĭae c ̣ausă c ̣onsist ̣it tĭb ̣i.

LENA

515

520

q ̣uĭd ăis ̣t u, quam ĕg ̣o unam u ̣idi m ̣ ŭlĭĕr ̣em audac ̣issĭm ̣ am? q ̣uŏtĭens ̣t e uĕtŭi A ̣ rgy˘ ̣rippum ̣filĭu ̣m Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣i e e c ̣ompell ̣ar aut c ̣ontrect ̣arĕ, c ̣ollŏq ̣uiu aut c ̣ontŭī ̣? q ̣uid dĕd ̣it? quid ̣iussit a ̣d nos d ̣eport ̣ari? an ̣t u tĭb ̣i u ̣erbă b ̣landa ess ̣e aurum ̣rerĕ, d ̣ictă d ̣octă p ̣ro dăt ̣is? u ̣ltro ăm ̣ as, ult ̣ro expĕt ̣essĭs ̣, ultro ad ̣t e accers ̣i iŭb ̣es.

525

̣illos q ̣ui dant ̣ eos der ̣ides; q ̣ui del ̣udunt d ̣epĕr ̣is. a ̣n te ĭd ̣ expect ̣are ŏp ̣ortet, ̣si quis p ̣romitt ̣at tĭb ̣i ̣t e fact ̣urum d ̣iuĭt ̣em, si m ̣ ŏrĭat ̣ur mat ̣er sŭa ̣? e ̣cast ̣or nob ̣is pĕr ̣iclum et ̣fămĭlĭa ̣e port ̣endĭt ̣ur, d ̣um eiŭs ̣ expect ̣amus m ̣ ortem, n ̣e nos m ̣ ŏrĭam ̣ ur făm ̣ e.

n ̣unc ădĕo ̣ nĭsĭ m ̣ i huc arg ̣enti | a ̣ffert u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as,

530

Asinaria: The One about the Asses Mme PHIL

Mme PHIL

Mme PHIL

Mme

55

Full of quips, for a lovebug, aren’t you? Mama, that’s my profession: my tongue demands, my body asks, my mind pleads, the circs give coaching. I meant to tick you off, and you turn up and put me in the dock. Surely, I put you in no dock: no, my doing that isn’t right. I do lament my luck, when I’m kept away from the man 515 I love. Will any part of the pleading be earmarked mine while there’s daylight? I pass over to you both my part of the speechmaking and yours. For speaking and for shushing, you take that rhythm stick for rowing. Why sure if I put back my oar, and in the rowers’ bunks, solo, I then take some rest, the whole household firm grinds to a 520 halt on you. What you saying? The one woman I’ve seen who has the most daring. Loves-Talk, how many times have I said no? Argyrippus, son of Demaenetus: no naming, touching, talking, eyeballing together. What fees he paid? What’s he ordered for ferrying to us? You think seductive words are gold for you? Posh talk will do for fees? 525 You go and love him, go and chase him, go get him summoned to you. Laugh at the ones that pay up. Waste away over the ones that mock. Ought you to wait for it, if one should come to you with the promise: “I shall make sure you are rich if . . .”—“if,” that is, his “mummy dies”? Our Lady, high risk’s predicted for us and the whole family, 530 and meanwhile we’re waiting for her death, when we may die of hunger. So, now. If he doesn’t fetch me twenty minae over here, cash,

56

Asinaria: The One about the Asses n ̣e ille ec ̣astor ̣ hinc trud ̣etur ̣largus ̣lăcrĭmar ̣um fŏr ̣as. h ̣ic di e s ̣summus est q ̣uo est ăp ̣ud me | ̣ĭnŏpĭae e ̣xcus ̣atĭo ̣.

LENA

p ̣ătĭar, ̣si cĭb ̣o căr ̣erĕ m ̣ e iŭb ̣es, mat ̣er mĕa ̣ . n ̣on uĕtŏ ̣t ed ăm ̣ arĕ q ̣ui dant c ̣u i a ăm ̣ entur g ̣ratĭa ̣ .

PHIL

q ̣uid si hic ̣ ănĭmŭs ̣ occŭp ̣atus est, m ̣ ater, q ̣uid făcĭa ̣m? mŏn ̣e.

PHIL

535

em,

LENA

m ̣ eum căp ̣ut cont ̣emples, ̣si quĭd ̣em ex re c ̣onsult ̣as tŭa ̣ .

PHIL

ĕ ̣tĭam ouip ̣ílĭo ̣ qui p ̣ascit, m ̣ ater ̣, ălĭen ̣as ŏu ̣is,

539+540

ă ̣lĭquam hăb ̣et pĕc ̣ulĭa ̣rem q ̣ui spem ̣solet ̣ur sŭa ̣m. ̣ are un ̣um Argy˘ ̣rippum | ă ̣nĭmi c ̣ausa, q ̣uem uŏl ̣o. ̣sĭnĕ me ăm LENA

̣i ntro ăb ̣i, nam ̣t e quĭd ̣em ĕdĕpol n ̣ĭhĭl est ̣ impŭd ̣entĭu ̣s.

PHIL

a ̣udĭe ̣ntem d ̣icto, m ̣ ater, p ̣rodux ̣isti ̣filĭa ̣m.

→→

LIBANVS + LEONIDA CVM CRVMINA Perf ̣ĭdĭae ̣laudes g ̣ratĭa ̣sque hăb ̣emus m ̣ ĕrĭto m ̣ agnas,

LIB

→→

545–745: iambic

cum n ̣ostris ̣sycŏp ̣hantĭi ̣s, dŏl ̣is ast ̣utĭi ̣sque, scăpŭl ̣arum c ̣onfĭd ̣entĭa ̣ , uirt ̣ute ulm ̣ orum ̣freti, qui adu ̣ersum ? ̣stĭmŭlos? ̣l ammĭn ̣as crŭc ̣esquĕ c ̣ompĕd ̣esque neru ̣os căt ̣enas c ̣arcĕr ̣es nŭm ̣ ellas p ̣ĕdĭcas b ̣oias

septenarii

549+550

ind ̣uctor ̣esque ac ̣errĭm ̣ os gnar ̣osquĕ n ̣ostri ̣t ergi, ?qui saepe ant e in nost ras scăpŭl as cĭc ătrĭces indĭderunt,?

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

̣

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

PHIL Mme

PHIL Mme

PHIL

Mme PHIL

→→ LIB

57

Our Lady, he’ll be shoved outa here, showering us with . . .— tears. Out! This is the last day the “funds short” cop-out will run. Not in my place. I’ll stand it, if you order me to go without food, mama mine. 535 I don’t say “no, don’t love ones who pay up” . . .—that’s why they get loved. What if mind-’n’-heart’s hung up here? Ma, what do I do? Please advise. Pow. Take a good look at my head, if you’re taking stock of your account. Even the shepherd, mama, who pastures the ewes of other 539+540 people, owns one private, for his stash, as the consoling hope for himself. Let me love just Argyrippus for heart-’n’-mind’s sake. The one I want. Inside, go on, off with you. ’Cos, surely, nowt’s more shameless than you. She heeds what you say, mama, the girl you brought up for your →→ daughter. LIBANUS + LEONIDA (WITH MONEY-POUCH) In praise of Broken Trust. In thanks. We deserve the epic 545 we’ve earned. We and our forces: the chicaneries, the cons, and the brainwaves. Shouldered on trust in our blades. On quality elm we reposed. Us up against whips ’n’ branding-irons ’n’ crosses ’n’ shackles fetters ’n’ chains ’n’ cells ’n’ hog-ties ’n’ leg-irons ’n’ 549+550 collars. Plus those passionate daubers, with our backs for intimate canvas, ?who have routinely inscribed for us scars on our shoulder blades.?

58

Asinaria: The One about the Asses eae n ̣unc lĕgĭo ̣nes, c ̣opĭa ̣e | ex ̣ercĭt ̣usque ĕo ̣rum ui p ̣ugnand ̣o, peii ̣urĭi ̣s nost ̣ris fŭg ̣ae pŏt ̣iti.

555

?id uirtut e huius c ollegaī me aquĕ c omĭt ate?

LEO

̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ est uir fortĭor ad suffĕrendas plagas? fact ̣umst. qui m e ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ĕdĕp ̣ol uirt ̣utes q ̣ui tŭa ̣s non p ̣ossis c ̣ollaud ̣are sic ̣ŭt ĕgŏ p ̣ossim, q ̣uae dŏm ̣ i duell ̣iquĕ m ̣ ălĕ fec ̣isti. ne ill ̣a ĕdĕpol p ̣ro mĕrĭt ̣o tŭo ̣ mĕmŏr ̣ari m ̣ ultă p ̣ossunt:

560

ŭbĭ ̣fident ̣em fraud ̣auĕr ̣is, ŭbi ĕr ̣o infĭd ̣elis ̣fŭĕris, ŭbĭ u ̣erbis c ̣oncept ̣is scĭe ̣ns lĭb ̣enter p ̣eiiĕr ̣aueris, ŭbĭ p ̣ărĭĕt ̣es perf ̣odĕr ̣is, in ̣furto ŭbĭ ̣sis prĕh ̣ensus, ŭbĭ ̣saepĕ c ̣ausam d ̣ixĕr ̣is pend ̣ens adu ̣ersŭs ̣ octo art ̣utos ̣, audac ̣is uĭr ̣os, uăl ̣entis u ̣irgat ̣ores. LIB

565

fătĕo ̣r prŏf ̣ecto ut p ̣raedĭc ̣as, Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a, essĕ u ̣era. uer ̣um ĕdĕpol n ̣e ĕtĭam ̣t ŭă quŏq ̣ué mălĕf ̣acta ĭtĕr ̣ari m ̣ ulta et u ̣ero p ̣ossunt ̣: ŭbĭ scĭe ̣ns fĭd ̣eli inf ̣idus ̣fŭĕris, ŭbĭ p ̣rensŭs ̣ in furt ̣o sĭe ̣s mănĭf ̣esto et u ̣erbĕr ̣atus, ŭbĭ p ̣eiiĕr ̣auerĭs ̣, ŭbĭ săc ̣ro măn ̣us sis ̣ admŏl ̣itus,

570

ŭbi ĕr ̣is damn ̣o, mŏl ̣estĭae e ̣t ded ̣ĕcŏri ̣saepĕ ̣fŭĕris, ŭbĭ c ̣redĭt ̣um quod ̣sit tĭb ̣í dăt ̣um essĕ p ̣ernĕg ̣aueris, ŭbi ăm ̣ icae q ̣uăm | ămic ̣o tŭo ̣ fŭĕr ̣is măg ̣is fĭd ̣elis, ŭbĭ ̣saepe ad ̣languor ̣em tŭa ̣ dur ̣ĭtĭa d ̣ĕdĕrĭs ̣ octo uălĭd ̣os lict ̣ores ̣, ulmĕi ̣s adf ̣ectos ̣lentis u ̣irgis. num m ̣ ălĕ rĕl ̣ata est g ̣ratĭa, u ̣t coll ̣egam c ̣ollaud ̣aui? LEO

ut m ̣ equĕ ̣t equĕ m ̣ axĭm ̣ e atque ing ̣ĕnĭo n ̣ostro d ̣ĕcŭit.

575

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

LEO

LIB

LEO

59

Now those legions, that capability to engage their armies, by force, fight, our perjuring ourselves, achieved their 555 objective: flight. Through my colleague’s qualities, of courage, and camaraderie, this materialized. What hero braver than I, for suffering blows? Surely, the courageous qualities of your own you could not praise, not as I could, your feats on home front and out in the field: all B-a-d. Surely, feats are legion, re-told in the name of all you 560 deserve: when you fleeced one man who came to trust you; when you breached master’s trust; when you ad-libbed perjury, with relish quoting set formulae; when you tunnelled through to the vaults; when you got nabbed on a robbery; when you regularly faced charges strung up against eight supple musclemen, the no-holds-barred type, strong-arm 565 brigade of birchers. May I confirm for a fact, Leonida, what you say is all true. But, surely, your feats, too, are legion, all B-a-d, and bear repeating, and in truth just so: when you broke trust with someone worthy of trust; when you were nicked on a robbery, red-handed, and dealt a beating; when you did perjury; when you weighed into hands-on 570 sacrilege; when you’ve regularly been a write-off, a pain, and a disgrace; when you maintained what was paid never was credited to you; when you deserved the trust of your playmate more than you did your teammates’; when you regularly used your tough-guy hardness, turned zombie eight strongman lictors, an armed guard equipped with flexi elm 575 birches. I hope I’ve returned thanks, and not so B-a-d, in praise of my colleague? You and me both, couldn’t be better, so so right for our talent.

60

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

LEO

iam ŏm ̣ itte ist ̣aec: hoc q ̣uod rŏg ̣o resp ̣onde. ̣rŏgĭta q ̣uod uis.

LIB

arg ̣enti u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as hăb ̣esnĕ?

LIB

| h ̣ărĭŏl ̣are.

LEO

ĕdĕp ̣ol sĕn ̣em Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣um lĕpĭd ̣um fŭi ̣ssĕ n ̣obis: ŭt ̣ assĭmŭl ̣abat S ̣aurĕa ̣m med ̣ essĕ q ̣uam făc ̣ete. nĭmĭs ̣ aegre ̣risum c ̣ontĭn ̣ui, | ŭb ̣i hospĭt ̣em inclam ̣ auit,

580

quod ̣sese abs ̣entĕ m ̣ ĭhĭ fĭd ̣ém | hăb ̣erĕ n ̣olŭi ̣sset. ut m ̣ ĕmŏrĭt ̣er me S ̣aurĕa ̣m uŏc ̣abăt ̣ atrĭe ̣nsem.

LIB

mănĕd ̣um. quĭd ̣ est? P ̣ hĭlaenĭum e ̣stne haec q ̣uae intŭs ̣ 585 exit ̣ atque a un A ̣ rgy˘ ̣rippŭs ̣? opprĭm ̣ e os, ĭs ̣ est. sŭb ̣auscult ̣emus. lăcrĭm ̣ antem ̣lăcĭnĭa ̣ tĕn ̣et lăcrĭm ̣ ans. quidn ̣am essĕ d ̣icam?

LEO

tăcĭt ̣i auscult ̣emŭs ̣. attăt ̣ae, mŏd ̣o hercle in m ̣ entem u ̣enit,

LIB LEO LIB

LEO

nĭmĭs u ̣ellem hăb ̣erĕ p ̣ertĭc ̣am. cu i ̣re i?

LIB LEO

qui u ̣erbĕr ̣arem e hinc ex crŭmina. ar ăsĭn ̣os, si ̣forte occ ̣epĕr ̣int clam ̣ ̣ ̣

PHIL

ADVLESCENS = AMATOR = ARGYRIPPUS + MERETRIX = PHILAENIUM cur m ̣ e rĕt ̣entas? q ̣uĭă tŭi ̣ | ăm ̣ ans ăbĕu ̣ntĭs ̣ ĕgĕo.

ARG

uăl ̣e uăl ̣e.

→→ ARG

590

Asinaria: The One about the Asses LIB LEO LIB LEO

61

Now drop all that. Answer this question from me. Ask away, whatever. Twenty minae in cash. Is that what you got? Quite a soothsayer. Surely, a funster our old boy turned out to be: Demaenetus. 580 The way he played along with my act of being Saurea, so witty. Too much! I just about held the laugh in, when he yelled at his guest from abroad, for refusing to trust me in his non-attendance. The way he kept calling me “steward Saurea,” never fluffed his lines.

LIB LEO LIB

LEO LIB

LEO

LIB LEO

→→ ARG PHIL ARG

Wait a mo’. Whassup? That Philaenium coming out from 585 inside, Argyrippus alongside? Zip your mouth, it’s him. Let’s listen in. He’s in tears, she’s in tears, and she’s got a hold of him by the hem. Let’s hush up now and listen. Ooh-la-la. Just popped in my head, lord, I really do wish I had a pole. Oh yeah, and what for? To beat the asses with, happen they start yelling from the 590 money-pouch here. LOVERBOY TWO: ARGYRIPPUS + PHILAENIUM Why are you holding me back? ’Cos I love you, miss you when you’re gone. Farewell, farewell.

62

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

PHIL

ălĭquant ̣o amplĭu ̣s uăl ̣erem, ̣si hic măn ̣eres.

ARG PHIL

salu ̣e. salu ̣erĕ m ̣ e iŭb ̣es, cu i ̣t u ăbĭens ̣ offers m ̣ orbum?

ARG

mat ̣er sŭp ̣remam m ̣ ĭhĭ tŭa ̣ dix ̣it, dŏm ̣ um irĕ ̣iussit.

PHIL

ăc ̣erbum ̣funus ̣filĭa ̣e făcĭe ̣t, si ̣t e căr ̣endum est.

{LIB}

{hŏm ̣ o hercle hinc ̣ exclus ̣us est fŏr ̣as.} {ĭtă ̣res est.} m ̣ ittĕ q ̣uaeso.

{LEO} ARG PHIL ARG {LIB}

595

quo n ̣unc ăb ̣is? quin ̣t u hic măn ̣es? nox, ̣si uŏl ̣es, măn ̣ebo. {aud ̣isne hunc ̣ ŏpĕra ut ̣largŭs ̣ est noct ̣urna? n ̣unc ĕn ̣im esse nĕg ̣otĭo ̣sum int ̣erdĭu ̣s uĭd ̣elĭc ̣et Sŏl ̣onem, leg ̣es ut c ̣onscrib ̣at, quĭb ̣us se p ̣ŏpŭlus ̣t ĕnĕat. g ̣errae.

600

qui ̣sese p ̣arer ̣e appăr ̣ent hui us ̣legĭb ̣us, prŏf ̣ecto numq ̣uam bŏn ̣ae frug ̣i sĭe ̣nt, dĭe ̣s noct ̣esquĕ p ̣otent.} {LEO}

{ne ist ̣e hercle ăb ̣ ista n ̣on pĕd ̣em disc ̣edat, ̣si lĭc ̣essit,

{LIB}

qui n ̣unc fest ̣inat ̣ atque ăb ̣ hac mĭn ̣atur ̣sese ăb ̣ire.} {serm ̣ oni ̣iam fin ̣em făc ̣é tŭo, h ̣ui us serm ̣ onem acc ̣ĭpĭam.}

ARG

uăl ̣e. quo p ̣rŏpĕras? b ̣ĕnĕ uăl ̣e. | ăpŭd ̣ Orcum ̣t e uĭd ̣ebo.

PHIL

nam ĕquĭd ̣em me ̣iam quant ̣um pŏt ̣est a u ̣ita abi ̣udĭc ̣abo. cur ̣t u, obsĕc ̣ro, immĕrĭt ̣o mĕo ̣ mĕ m ̣ orti d ̣edĕr ̣e optas?

ARG

ĕg ̣one te? q ̣uam si int ̣ellĕg ̣am def ̣ĭcĕrĕ u ̣ita, ̣iam ipse

ARG PHIL

605

Asinaria: The One about the Asses PHIL ARG PHIL ARG PHIL {LIB} {LEO} ARG PHIL ARG {LIB}

{LEO}

{LIB}

63

I’d feel a whole lot weller if you’d stay put here. Goo’day. You tell me “Good day” when your pushing off gives me the plague. Your mother told me the day’s over. Ordered me: time I went home. She’ll bring her daughter an early death if she must do 595 without you. {Lord, this person’s shut right out of doors.} {That’s how ’tis.} Please, lemme go. Where are you going? Why don’t you stay here? I’ll stay the night if you like. {Get him! D’you hear how he’s showering out the night shifts? So now he’s a workaholic Moses, no less, working the daytime through, the way he drafts conditions for the nation to keep. 600 Cojones! Any persons gearing up to obey his conditions, for a fact, they shan’t ever do right, and round the clock, day ’n’ night . . .— shall get pissed.} {Sure, lord, he wouldn’t shift a foot from her, not if the choice was his, Yet now, he’s in a rush, threatens that he’s going away from her.} {Now you must put a stop to your chit-chat, so I can take 605 in his.}

ARG

Farewell.

PHIL

Where you racing? Goodbye. Farewell. I shall see you in Hell. See, I’m banning myself from living, far as I possibly can. Why? I’ll give myself to death undeserved, I beg you, is that your wish? Me . . . ? And . . . you . . . ? If I see that you’re fading from life, I shall right now

ARG

PHIL ARG

64

Asinaria: The One about the Asses uit ̣am mĕa ̣m tĭbĭ ̣largĭa ̣r et d ̣e mĕa a ̣d tŭam a ̣ddam.

PHIL

610

cur ̣ ergo m ̣ ĭnĭtar ̣is mĭh ̣í te u ̣itam ess ̣e amiss ̣urum? nam q ̣uid me ̣factur ̣am pŭt ̣as, si ist ̣uc quod d ̣icis ̣faxis?

ARG PHIL

cert ̣um est eff ̣ĭcĕre in m ̣ e omnĭá ̣ | ead ̣em quae ̣t u in te ̣faxis. oh m ̣ ellĕ d ̣ulci d ̣ulcĭo ̣r tu es. c ̣erte ĕnĭm ̣t u uit ̣a es mi. comp ̣lectĕr ̣ĕ. făcĭo ̣ lĭb ̣ens.

ARG

ŭtĭn ̣am sic ̣ effĕr ̣amur.

PHIL {LEO}

615

{o L ̣ ĭbăne, ŭt ̣i mĭsĕr ̣ est hŏm ̣ o quĭ ăm ̣ at.} {imm ̣ o herclĕ u ̣ero

{LIB}

qui pendet multo est mĭsĕrĭor.} ̣

̣

̣

̣

{scĭŏ q ̣ui pĕr ̣iclum ̣feci.

{LEO}

circ ̣umsist ̣amŭs ̣, altĕr ̣ hinc, hinc ̣ altĕr ̣ appell ̣emus.} LEO>ARG

ĕrĕ, ̣salue. ̣sed num ̣fumŭs ̣ est haec m ̣ ŭlĭer q ̣uam amplex ̣are?

ARG>LEO

quid ̣um?

LEO>ARG

ARG>LIB+LEO LEO>ARG

quĭa ŏ ̣cŭli ̣sunt tĭb ̣i lăcrĭm ̣ antes ̣, eo rŏg ̣aui.

păt ̣ronus q ̣ui uob ̣is fŭi ̣t fŭt ̣urus, p ̣erdĭd ̣istis. ĕquĭd ̣em herclĕ n ̣ullum p ̣erdĭd ̣i, | ĭdĕo ̣ quĭă n ̣umquam ull ̣um hăbŭi.

LIB>PH

Phĭl ̣aenĭu ̣m, salu ̣e. dăb ̣unt di q ̣uae uĕl ̣itis u ̣obis. noct ̣em tŭam e ̣t uin ̣i căd ̣um uĕl ̣im, si opt ̣ată ̣fiant.

ARG>LIB

uerb ̣um căuĕ ̣faxis, u ̣erbĕr ̣o.

LIB>PH PH>LIB+LEO

LIB>ARG

620

tĭb ̣i ĕquĭdem, n ̣on mĭh ̣i opto.

625

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

PHIL

ARG PHIL

ARG PHIL {LEO} {LIB} {LEO}

LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ARG>LIB+LEO LEO>ARG

LIB>PH ARG>LIB+LEO LIB>PH ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

65

shower my life over you, and count some from me over to 610 yours. So why? Why are you threatening me, with throwing your life away? See, what do you think I’m gonna do, if you . . . go . . . do . . . what you say? My mind’s made up. I’ll do to myself all that you do to yourself. Oh honey’s sweet, you are sweeter. Sweeter than life to me, you are. Let’s have a hug. Oh yes please let’s. Wish we can get buried 615 this way. {Dear Libanus, how sad is a person in love.} {Lord, no, no way, someone strung up is far, far the sadder.} {I know, I’ve done a trial. One call ’em from here, let’s surround ’em, the other one call ’em from there.} Goo’day, master. Hey there now, is she smoke, this woman in your arms? Pardon me? Because your eyes they are watering. Hence my 620 question. The patron you two were going to have for the future, you’ve lost. Well, lord, I sure haven’t lost one: why? ’Cos I never have had one.

Philaenium, goo’day. The gods will grant you everything you want. I’d like a night of yours, a jug of plonk, if my wishes came true. Mind, not a beep from you, boy to beat up on. I’m wishing for you not me. 625

66 ARG>LIB

Asinaria: The One about the Asses tum ̣t u ĭgĭtur ̣lŏquĕrĕ q ̣uod lĭb ̣et. hunc ̣ herclĕ u ̣erbĕr ̣are.

LIB>ARG LEO>LIB

quisn ̣am istuc ̣ accred ̣at tĭb ̣í, cĭn ̣aedĕ c ̣ălămist ̣rate? tune u ̣erbĕr ̣es, qui p ̣ro cĭb ̣o | hăbĕa ̣s te u ̣erbĕr ̣ari?

ARG>LIB

ut u ̣estrae ̣fortun ̣ae mĕi ̣s praec ̣edunt, L ̣ĭbănĕ, ̣longe, qui | h ̣ŏdĭe n ̣umquam ad u ̣espĕr ̣um uiu ̣am.

LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

quap ̣ropter, q ̣uaeso? e ămat, huic quod dem quĭa ĕg ̣o hanc ăm o | ĕt haec m ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ n ̣usquam q ̣uidquam est, hinc m ̣ ater. ̣ ed ăm ̣ antem ex ̣ aedĭb ̣ús ei ̣ecit ̣ huius m

arg ̣enti u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣ae med ̣ ad mort ̣em appŭl ̣erunt quas ̣ hŏdĭe ădŭl ̣escens D ̣ ĭăbŏl ̣ús ips ̣i dăt ̣urus d ̣ixit, ŭt ̣ hanc ne q ̣uoquam m ̣ ittĕr ̣et nĭs ̣i ad se hunc ̣ annum ̣t otum. uĭd ̣etisne u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣ae quid p ̣ollent q ̣uiduĕ p ̣ossunt?

630

635

ille q ̣ui illas p ̣erdit ̣saluŭs ̣ est, ĕgŏ q ̣ui non p ̣erdo p ̣ĕrĕo.

LIB>ARG

iam d ̣ĕdĭt arg ̣entum? n ̣on dĕd ̣it. bŏn ̣o ănĭmo es, n ̣e form ̣ ida.

LEO>LIB

sec ̣ede huc, L ̣ĭbănĕ, ̣t e uŏl ̣o.

LIB>ARG

si q ̣uid uis ̣. obsĕc ̣ro uos, em u s e ead ̣ istac ̣ ŏpĕra ̣s auĭu ̣ st comp ̣lexos ̣fabŭl ̣ari.

LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

ARG>LIB

LIB>ARG

640

non ̣ omnĭa ĕ ̣ădem aeq ̣ue omnĭb ̣ús, ĕrĕ, ̣suauĭa e ̣ssĕ ̣scito: uob ̣is est ̣suaue ăm ̣ antĭb ̣us comp ̣lexos ̣fabŭl ̣ari. um ĕgŏ c ̣omplex ̣ huius n ̣il mŏr ̣or, mĕum a ̣utem hĭc ̣ aspern ̣atur.

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ARG>LIB LIB>ARG LEO>LIB

ARG>LIB

LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

LIB>ARG ARG>LIB LIB>ARG LEO>LIB LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

LIB>ARG

67

Then say on what you like, ad-lib. To whop him here a beating, lord. Who would ever credit it? That from you, you pansy with a perm. You? Dish out a beat-up, when taking a whopping fills your lunchbox? How you guy’s fortunes leave mine far behind in their wake, Libanus. For this day I shall never live till evening. Why and wherefore, 630 please? ’Cos I love her and she loves me . . .—and nothing nowhere to pay her. So that her mother has chucked loverboy out of the house here. Me. Twenty minae of cash have driven me all the way unto death. The twenty the boy Diabolus today told her he’d pay her, so she’d send her off nowhere but to him, for the whole of this 635 year. You guys see what twenty minae got going? Their strength, their power. The one wasting them is safe; I’m not wasting them. No, I’m wasted. Has he already paid the cash? No he hasn’t. Cheer up, don’t dread. Step aside here, Libanus, I want you. As you please. I beg you, in one and the same go, you’ll find it’s sweeter to chat in a 640 clinch. Master. You should know not everything’s just as sweet to everyone: for the pair of you lovers, yes, it is sweet to chat in a clinch. I’ve got no time for a hug from him, and he is repelled by mine.

68

ARG>LIB ARG>LIB+LEO

{LEO}

Asinaria: The One about the Asses pro ind ̣e istuc ̣făcĭas ̣ ipsĕ q ̣uod făcĭa ̣mus n ̣obis ̣suades. ĕgŏ u ̣ero, et q ̣uĭdem ĕdĕp ̣ol lĭb ̣ens. int ̣ĕrĕa, ̣si uĭd ̣etur, conc ̣edĭt ̣e istuc. {u ̣isne ĕr ̣um del ̣udi?} {d ̣ignus est ̣sane.}

{LIB} {LEO}

{uisne ̣făcĭam ut ̣t e Phĭl ̣aenĭu ̣m praes ̣ente hoc ̣ amplex ̣etur?}

{LIB}

{cŭpĭo h ̣erclĕ.} {s ̣ĕquĕre hac ̣.} ecquĭd ̣ est săl ̣utis? ̣sătĭs lŏc ̣uti.

{LEO} ARG>LIB+LEO LEO>ARG+PHIL

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

645

ausc ̣ultat ̣e atque ŏpĕr ̣am dăt ̣e et mĕă d ̣ictă d ̣euŏr ̣ate. prim ̣ um omnĭu ̣m seru ̣os tŭo ̣s nos ̣ essĕ n ̣on nĕg ̣amus, sed ̣t ĭbĭ si u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣ae | arg ̣enti p ̣rofĕr ̣entur, quo n ̣os uŏc ̣abis n ̣omĭn ̣é? lib ̣ertos. n ̣on păt ̣ronos? id p ̣ŏtĭus. u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣ae | hic ̣ insunt ̣ in crŭm ̣ ina.

650

has ̣ ĕgŏ, si u ̣is, tĭb ̣i dăb ̣o. ARG>LEO

di ̣t e seru ̣assint ̣semper, cust ̣os ĕr ̣ilis, d ̣ĕcŭs pŏp ̣uli, thes ̣aurus c ̣opĭa ̣rum,

655

săl ̣us int ̣ĕrĭor c ̣orpŏr ̣ís ăm ̣ orisq ̣ue impĕr ̣ator. hic p ̣one, hic ̣ istam c ̣ollŏc ̣a crŭm ̣ inam in c ̣ollo p ̣lane. LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO

nol ̣o ĕgŏ te, q ̣uĭ | ĕrus ̣sis, mĭh ̣í | ŏnŭs ̣ istuc ̣sustĭn ̣ere. quin ̣t u lăb ̣orĕ ̣libĕr ̣as te atq ̣ue istam imp ̣onĭs ̣ in me? ĕgŏ b ̣aiŭl ̣abo, ̣t u, ut dĕc ̣et dŏmĭn ̣um, antĕ m ̣ e ito in ̣anis. quid n ̣unc? quĭd ̣ est? quin ̣t radĭs ̣ huc crŭm ̣ inam p ̣ressat ̣um ŭmĕrum?

660

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

ARG>LIB ARG>LIB+LEO

{LEO} {LIB} {LEO} {LIB} {LEO} ARG>LIB+LEO LEO>ARG+PH

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ARG>LEO

LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO

69

So you should take your own advice, and do what you tell us to do. I will, surely. And I’ll take a liberty. Meanwhile, if you like, 645 Both go huddle there. {Like some fun with master?} {Sure got it coming.} {Want me to have Philaenium give you a hug, with him in attendance?} {Lord, I fancy that.} {Come this way.} Saving us at all? Enough talk. Listen up, both of you; pay attention; and gobble down my words. First of all, we do not deny it, certainly we are your slaves. 650 But if you get twenty minae of cash brought out in front of you, what name are you going to call us? Liberated. Not “patrons”? Yes, that instead. There’s twenty minae here, inside this money-pouch. If you like, I’ll pay them over. The gods keep you safe forever. Your master’s guard, your nation’s pride, cornucopian 655 treasure-house, saviour within our walls, commander on love’s physical field, do put your deposit here. Check this pouch here. Plain flat on my neck. You’re my master, I will not have you shoulder this burden for me. Why don’t you liberate yourself from labour, and stick it on me? I’ll be porter. You, as fits an owner, go ahead, unladen. 660 Hey now. Whassup? Why don’t you hand it here to flatten my shoulder?

70 LEO>ARG

Asinaria: The One about the Asses hanc c ̣u i dăt ̣urus e ̣s hanc, iŭb ̣e pĕtĕr ̣e atque or ̣arĕ m ̣ ecum. nam ist ̣uc proc ̣liue est q ̣uo iŭb ̣es me p ̣lane c ̣ollŏc ̣are.

PHIL>LEO

da, m ̣ ĕŭs ŏc ̣ellus, m ̣ ĕă rŏs ̣á, mĭ | ă ̣nĭmĕ, m ̣ ĕă uŏl ̣uptas, Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a, argent ̣um mĭh ̣í, ne n ̣os dii ̣unge ăm ̣ antis.

LEO>PHIL

665

dic m ̣ e ĭgĭtur ̣t uum pass ̣ercŭl ̣um, gall ̣inam, c ̣oturn ̣icem, ag ̣nellum, haed ̣illum m ̣ e tŭu ̣m dic ̣ essĕ u ̣el uĭt ̣ellum. prĕh ̣ende aur ̣ĭcŭlis, c ̣ompăr ̣a lăb ̣ellă c ̣um lăb ̣ellis.

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ten ̣e oscŭl ̣etur, u ̣erbĕr ̣o? quam u ̣ero ind ̣ignum u ̣isum est? atq ̣ui pŏl ̣ hŏdĭe n ̣on fĕr ̣es, ni g ̣ĕnŭă c ̣onfrĭc ̣antur.

670

ARG>LEO

quid ̣uis ĕg ̣estas ̣ impĕr ̣at: frĭc ̣entur. d ̣asne quŏd ̣ oro?

PHIL>LEO

ăgĕ, m ̣ i Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a, obsĕc ̣ro, fĕr ăm ̣ anti ĕr ̣o săl ̣utem. e e rĕdĭm ̣ istoc b ̣ĕnĕfĭcĭo ̣ t ab ̣ hoc, et ̣t ĭbi ĕme hunc ̣ isto arg ̣ento.

LEO>PHIL

nĭmĭs b ̣ella es ̣ atque ăm ̣ abĭl ̣ís, et ̣si hoc mĕum e ̣ssĕt ̣, hŏdĭe numq ̣uam me or ̣ares q ̣uin dăr ̣ém: | ill ̣um te or ̣arĕ m ̣ ĕlĭus est, ĭllĭc ̣ hanc mĭhĭ ̣seruand ̣am dĕd ̣it. i ̣sane b ̣ellă b ̣elle.

LEO>LIB ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

căp ̣e hoc siuis, L ̣ĭbănĕ. ̣furcĭf ̣ér, ĕtĭa ̣m me d ̣elus ̣isti? numq ̣uam herclĕ ̣făcĕrem, g ̣ĕnŭă n ̣i tam n ̣equĭt ̣er frĭc ̣ares.

675

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

71

LEO>ARG

Her—the one you will hand this to—tell her to beg and plead with me. Where you told me to check it, slopes on the vertical plane. That’s flat.

PHIL>LEO

Pay, my fine eyelet, my rosy rose, my dear heart, my sweet pleasure, Leonida . . .—the cash . . . to me. . . . Don’t unyoke us, we are 665 lovers. So then call me your tiny sparrowlet, broody hen, quackin’ quail, your little lamblet, your cute kiddikin, say that’s me, your juicy veal. You lug me by the lugholes. You match luscious lips to luscious lips.

LEO>PHIL

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ARG>LEO

PHIL>LEO

LEO>PHIL

LEO>LIB ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

Kiss you . . . , her . . . you whipping boy? So just how insulting did that look? And yet sure you’ll not carry it off, unless knees get a 670 massage. What it takes—“needs must”—command away, massage ’tis. Pay what I beg? Go on, my Leonida, I beg. Loverboy master needs saving. Buy yourself out from him with this good turn. Buy him for you with this cash. Too much, such beauty, so lovely. Yes, and if this was mine, this day you’d never plead with me, and me not give it. Better you 675 plead with him—he gave it me, to keep safe. Go like beauty, you real beaut. Cop this, p-lease, Libanus. Ball-’n’-chain, have you dared make fun of me? Lord, I’d never’ve done it if . . . you weren’t so . . .—bad at massaging knees.

72

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

LEO>LIB

ăgĕ ̣siuis tu in p ̣artem n ̣uncĭam h ̣unc del ̣ude atq ̣ue amplex ̣are hanc.

LIB>LEO

tăcĕa ̣s, me ̣spectes.

ARG>PHIL

q ̣uin ăd ̣ hunc, Phĭl ̣aenĭum, a ̣ggrĕd ̣imur, 680 uĭr ̣um quĭd ̣em pŏl ̣ optĭm ̣ um et non ̣sĭmĭlem ̣furĭs h ̣uius?

LIB

ĭn ̣ambŭl ̣andum est: n ̣unc mĭh ̣í uĭc ̣issim ̣supplĭc ̣abunt.

ARG>LIB

quaes ̣o herclĕ, L ̣ĭbănĕ, ̣siuis ĕr ̣um tu is ̣factis ̣sospĭt ̣ari, da m ̣ antem ĕg ̣ere. ̣ i istas u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as. uĭd ̣es me ăm

LIB>ARG

uĭd ̣ebĭt ̣ur: fact ̣um uŏl ̣o. rĕd ̣ito huc c ̣ontĭc ̣inno.

685

nunc ̣ istanc ̣t antisp ̣er iŭb ̣e pĕtĕr ̣e atque or ̣arĕ m ̣ ecum. PHIL>LIB

ăm ̣ andon ̣e exor ̣arĭe ̣r uis ̣t ed ăn ̣ oscŭl ̣ando?

LIB>PHIL

ĕnĭm u ̣ero ŭt ̣rumque. erg ̣o, obsĕc ̣ro, et tu ŭt ̣rumquĕ n ̣ostrum ̣serua.

PHIL>LIB

ARG>LIB

PHIL>LIB LIB>PHIL

ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

o L ̣ĭbănĕ, m ̣ i păt ̣ronĕ, m ̣ i trad ̣e istuc. m ̣ ăgĭs dĕc ̣orum est lib ̣ertum p ̣ŏtĭus q ̣uam păt ̣ronum ŏnŭs ̣ in uĭa ̣ port ̣are.

690

mi L ̣ĭbăne, ŏc ̣ellŭs ̣ aurĕu ̣s, don ̣um dĕc ̣usque ăm ̣ oris, a ăm ̣ abo, ̣făcĭam q ̣uod uŏl ̣es, d ist ̣uc arg ̣entum n ̣obis. dic ̣ ĭgĭtur m ̣ ed ăn ̣ĕtĭcŭl ̣am, cŏl ̣umbam u ̣el căt ̣ellum, hĭr ̣undĭn ̣em, mŏn ̣edŭl ̣am, pass ̣ercŭl ̣um pŭt ̣illum, fac p ̣roserp ̣entem b ̣estĭa ̣m me, d ̣ŭplĭcem ut ̣ hăbĕam 695 ̣linguam, circ ̣umda ̣t orquem b ̣racchĭi ̣s, meum c ̣ollum c ̣ircump ̣lecte. tene c ̣omplect ̣atur, c ̣arnĭf ̣ex? quam u ̣ero ind ̣ignus u ̣ĭdĕor?

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

73

LEO>LIB

Come on, p-lease, now for your part. Make fun of him, give her a hug.

LIB>LEO

Hush and watch. Why don’t we step over his way, 680 Philaenium? Sure, there’s none better than him, and no, he’s not a bit like this thief. Time I took a stroll. Now they’ll be on their knees to me. It’s my turn.

ARG>PHIL

LIB

ARG>LIB

LIB>ARG

PHIL>LIB LIB>PHIL PHIL>LIB

Lord I beg you, Libanus, please save your master, all down to you. Hand me the twenty minae. You can see my love-affair needs them. It’ll be looked into. I’d like to see it done. Come back here at 685 dusk. For that amount of time, order her now to seek and plead with me. You want your pleading done with sexing, or you want it with kissing? Both, actually. So then, I beg, you as well, save both of us two.

ARG>LIB

Dear Libanus, my patron, hand it over to me. It’s more fit someone liberated hump a load on the street than a patron. 690

PHIL>LIB

My Libanus, eyelet of gold, gift and glory of love, please lover, I will do anything you want, just give us the cash. So call me ugly duckling, lovey dovey, or floppy puppy, soaring swallow, jolly jackdaw-a-dum, sparrowlet chick-a-dee, You must make me a crawling snake . . .—give us a double 695 two-forked tongue. Make me a collar of your arms, hug me tight all around the neck.

LIB>PHIL

ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

Hug you, executioner? So just how insulting do I look?

74

ARG>LIB LIB ARG

LIB

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ne ist ̣uc neq ̣uiquam d ̣ixĕr ̣ís in m ̣ e tam ind ̣ignum d ̣ictum, em uĕhĕs p ̣ŏl hŏdĭe ̣ me, ̣si quĭd ̣ hoc arg ̣entum ̣ferrĕ ̣speres. ten ̣e ĕgŏ uĕh ̣am? tun ̣e hoc ̣fĕras hinc ̣ argent ̣um ălĭtĕr ̣ a me? 700 pĕrĭi h ̣erclĕ. ̣si uer ̣um quĭd ̣em et dĕc ̣orum ĕrŭm u ̣ĕhĕrĕ ̣seruum, ins ̣cendĕ. ̣sic ist ̣i sŏl ̣ent sŭp ̣erbi ̣subdŏm ̣ ari. ast ̣a ĭgĭtŭr ̣, ut cons ̣uetŭs ̣ es pŭĕr ̣ olim. ̣scisne ut d ̣icam? em ̣sic. ăbĭ, ̣l audo, n ̣ec te ĕq ̣uo măgĭs ̣ est ĕquŭs u ̣llus ̣săpĭens.

ARG LIB

ARG LIB

ins ̣cende act ̣utum. ĕgŏ ̣fecĕro. h ̣em quĭd ĭst ̣uc est ̣? ut tu 705 inc ̣edis? am dem ̣ herclĕ ̣iam dĕ | h ̣ordĕo ̣, tŏl ̣utim n ̣i băd ̣issas. ăm ̣ abo, L ̣ ĭbănĕ, ̣iam săt ̣ est. numq ̣uam hercle hŏdĭe e ̣xor ̣abis. nam ̣i am calc ̣ari q ̣uădrŭpĕd ̣o | ăgĭt ̣abo adu ̣ersum c ̣liuum, post ̣ĭdĕa ad p ̣istor ̣es dăb ̣o, | ŭt ĭb ̣i crŭcĭe ̣rĕ c ̣urrens. ast ̣a ut desc ̣endam n ̣uncĭam ̣i n prŏc ̣liui, q ̣uamquam n ̣equam es.

ARG

LIB LEO

710

quid n ̣unc, ăm ̣ abo? q ̣uŏnĭam, ŭt ̣ est lĭbĭt ̣um, nos d ̣elus ̣istis, dăt ̣isne arg ̣entum? ̣si quĭd ̣em mĭhĭ ̣stătŭam ĕt a ̣ram ̣stătŭis e i atq ̣u ut dĕo ̣ m hic ̣ immŏl ̣as bŏu ̣em. nam ĕgŏ ̣t ĭbĭ Săl ̣us sum. ĕtĭa ̣m tu, ĕr ̣e, istunc ̣ amŏu ̣es ?abs ̣t e atque ips ̣é me agg ̣rĕdĕre? atq ̣ue illă, sĭb ̣i quae hĭc ̣iussĕr ̣at, mĭhĭ ̣stătŭis ̣supplĭc ̣asque? 715

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

quem ̣t e autem d ̣iuum n ̣omĭn ̣em? Fort ̣unam, atq ̣ue Obsĕq ̣uentem.

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

ARG>LIB LIB ARG

LIB

ARG LIB

ARG LIB

ARG

LIB LEO

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

75

No, you won’t speak such an insult against me and not pay for it, so you’ll give me a ride, lord, today if you’ll hope to fetch this cash. Me give you a ride? Gonna fetch this cash off me some 700 other way? Lord, I’ve had it. If it is fit for owner to give slave a ride . . . —climb on. It happens. Here’s how the overblown undergo subdual. So stand ready, the way you once did as a kid. Know how I mean? Pow, that’s the way. Get going. Well done, no horse smart as you, horsey. Climb on right away. I’ll do it. Hey up, what’s this? How you 705 going? Lord, I’ll take some feed away if you don’t highstep à grand galop. Please, Libanus, whoa, enough. Lord, you’ll never plead a yes today. ’Cos now I’ll use the spur, and drive you straight up the slope, at a trot. Later I’ll give you to the millers, for torture there at the races. Steady, so I c’n climb down now on the slope, though you’re 710 one bad ’un. What now, please? Now that you two’ve had your fun at us ad libitum . . . —give us the cash? Yes, if you stand me statue and altar status, sacrifice an ox to me here like a god: for you, I’m Salvation. You just shoo him away from you, master, step my way on your own. The orders he gave for himself, stand me them too, down 715 on your knees? Which god am I to name you? Fortune, yep, Fortune In Your Favour.

76 ARG>LEO LIB>ARG

Asinaria: The One about the Asses iam ist ̣oc es m ̣ ĕlĭor ̣. an quĭd ̣ est hŏmĭn ̣i Săl ̣utĕ m ̣ ĕlĭus?

ARG

lĭcĕt ̣l audem F ̣ortun ̣am, tăm ̣ én ut n ̣e Săl ̣utem c ̣ulpem. ec ̣astor ̣ ambae ̣sunt bŏn ̣ae. scĭam ŭ ̣bĭ bŏn ̣i quid d ̣ĕdĕrint.

LEO>ARG

opt ̣a id quŏd ŭt c ̣onting ̣at tĭb ̣í uis.

ARG>LIB PHIL

ARG>LEO

q ̣uid si opt ̣auero?

LEO>ARG

eu ̣ĕnĭet. 720

ARG>LEO

opt ̣o annum hunc p ̣erpĕtŭu ̣m mĭh ̣í | hui us ̣ ŏpĕras ̣. impĕt ̣rauisti.

LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG LIB>ARG

a i sne u ̣ero? c ̣erte inq ̣uam. ad me ăd ̣i uĭc ̣issim atq ̣ue expĕr ̣ire. ex ̣opta id q ̣uod uis m ̣ axĭm ̣ e tĭb ̣i euĕn ̣irĕ. ̣fiet.

ARG

quĭd ĕg ̣o ălĭŭd ̣ exopt ̣em amplĭu ̣s nĭs ̣i illud c ̣ui us ĭn ̣ŏpĭa est,

LIB>ARG

uig ̣inti arg ̣enti c ̣ommŏd ̣as mĭn ̣as, hui us q ̣uas dem m ̣ atri. dăb ̣untur ̣, ănĭmo ̣sis bŏn ̣o făc ̣e, exopt ̣ata obt ̣ingent.

ARG

ut c ̣onsueu ̣ere, hŏmĭn ̣es Săl ̣us frust ̣ratŭr ̣ et Fort ̣una.

LEO

ĕgŏ c ̣ăpŭt huic ̣ argent ̣o fŭi ̣ tĭb ̣i hŏdĭe ̣rĕpĕrĭe ̣ndo. ĕgŏ p ̣es fŭi ̣. quin n ̣ec căp ̣ut nec p ̣es serm ̣ oni app ̣aret.

LIB>ARG ARG

nec q ̣uid dic ̣atis ̣scirĕ n ̣ec me c ̣ur lud ̣atis p ̣ossum. {LIB>LEO}

{sătĭs ̣i am del ̣usum c ̣ensĕo ̣. nunc ̣rĕm | ŭt est ̣ elŏq ̣uamur.}

LIB>ARG

ănĭm ̣ um, Argy˘ ̣rippe, adu ̣ertĕ ̣siuis. păt ̣er nos ̣ferre hoc ̣iussit arg ̣entum ad ̣t ed.

725

730

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ARG>LEO LIB>ARG ARG>LIB PHIL ARG

77

Now that makes you better. Surely nothing’s better than Salvation? It’s legit to praise Fortune, and not so I must slate Salvation. Both, Our Lady, good goddesses. I’ll know when they hand me some good.

LEO>ARG

Wish to get what you want.

ARG>LEO

What if I do wish? Yes, it will come 720 true. I wish for her services through this whole year round. Look no farther. You don’t say? I certainly do. It’s my turn. Step up and try me. You wish hard that what you want most of all will come true. So be it. What else should I wish hard for? Has to be where the dearth is complete: the handy twenty minae cash, so I can pay them her mother. 725 Yes, they shall be paid, be of good cheer, your hard wishes shall come true. That’s ever their way, Salvation tantalizing people. And Fortune.

LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG LIB>ARG

ARG

LIB>ARG ARG LEO LIB>ARG ARG

{LIB>LEO}

LIB>ARG

I was head of today’s Operation Unearth The Cash for you. I was foot. How come both head and foot of this chat are lost to sight? I can’t understand what you’re saying, I can’t know why 730 you’re playing. {That’s enough fun out of him, I propose. Now let’s spell out the deal.} Argyrippus, attention please. Father ordered us to fetch this cash here to you.

78

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ut ̣t empŏr ̣i opport ̣uneq ̣ue attŭl ̣istis.

ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

hic ̣ ĭnĕrunt u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣ae bŏn ̣ae, măl ̣a ŏpĕra p ̣artae. has ̣t ĭbĭ nos p ̣actis ̣legĭb ̣us dărĕ ̣iussit. q ̣uĭd ĭd est, q ̣uaeso?

ARG LIB>ARG

735

noct ̣em hui us et c ̣enam ̣sĭbi ŭt dăr ̣es. iŭb ̣e aduĕn ̣irĕ, q ̣uaeso:

ARG

mĕrĭt ̣issĭm ̣ o eius q ̣uae uŏl ̣et făcĭe ̣mus, q ̣ui hosce ăm ̣ ores nost ̣ros disp ̣ulsos c ̣ompŭl ̣it. pătĭe ̣rĭsn ̣e, Argy˘ ̣rippe,

LEO

păt ̣rem hanc amp ̣lexar ̣i tŭú ̣m? | haec ̣făcĭet ̣făcĭle ut p ̣ătĭar.

ARG

Lĕō ̣nĭd ̣a, curr ̣e, obsĕc ̣ro, păt ̣rem huc or ̣ato ut u ̣ĕnĭat. LEO>ARG ARG>LEO

740

iamd ̣udum est ̣ intŭs ̣. hac quĭd ̣em non u ̣enit ̣. angĭp ̣orto

LEO>ARG

ill ̣ac pĕr ̣ hortum c ̣ircŭm ̣ it clam, n ̣e quis ̣se uĭd ̣eret huc ̣ irĕ ̣fămĭlĭa ̣rĭu ̣m: ne ux ̣or res ̣ciscat m ̣ ĕtŭit. de arg ̣ento ̣si mat ̣er tŭá ̣ scĭa ̣t ut ̣sit fact ̣um —

— heia,

ARG>LIB+LEO

bĕnĕ dicĭt e. ̣

LIB>ARG+PHIL ARG LEO>ARG+PHIIL

̣

ite int ̣ro cĭt ̣o. uăl ̣ete. et u ̣os ăm ̣ ate.

→→→→

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

ARG>LIB LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

LEO

ARG

LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

79

Great timing, spot on. You’ve fetched it right on the dot. In here there’ll be twenty minae, good ’uns, we did bad to get ’em. He told us pay you them on fixed terms and conditions. What’s that, please? 735 You pay him his fee: the night with her, plus party. Please, order him: come. We’ll do what he wants, he deservemosts it, ’cos he found our romance uncorralled, and he corralled it. Will you endure it, Argyrippus . . . —your father hugging her tight? This’ll ease me into enduring it. Easy. 740 Leonida, do scurry off, I beg, plead with dad: come here. He’s long been inside. Well he didn’t come this way. Through the alley, that way he came, round through the garden, private, so no one’d see him come here, none of the household. Afraid his wife gets to know about it. The cash . . .—if your mother knew what happened about the cash . . .

—Whoa! Shh . . . —no bad talkin’ . . . LIB>ARG+PHIL —In you go, quick. ARG Farewell, you two. LEO>ARG+PHIIL Make love, you two. ARG>LIB+LEO

→→→→

80 →→ DIAB

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ADVLESCENS = A MATOR = DIABOLVS + PARASITVS ăgĕd ̣um istum ost ̣endĕ q ̣uem cons ̣cripsti ̣syngrăp ̣hum

746–829: iambic

PAR DIAB PAR DIAB PAR

DIAB PAR DIAB PAR

int ̣er me ĕt ăm ̣ icam et ̣lenam. ̣leges p ̣erlĕg ̣e. nam ̣t u pŏē ̣ta es p ̣rorsŭs ̣ ăd ĕam ̣rem unĭc ̣us. horr ̣escet ̣faxo ̣lenă, ̣leges c ̣um audĭe ̣t. ăgĕ q ̣uaeso m ̣ i herclĕ ̣t ranslĕg ̣e. audisn ̣e? audĭo ̣.

senarii

750

‘Dĭă ̣bŏlus G ̣ lauci ̣filĭu ̣s Clĕá ̣rĕt ̣ae len ̣ae dĕdĭt d ̣ono arg ̣enti u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as Phĭl ̣aenĭum u ̣t sec ̣um esset n ̣octes ̣ et dĭe ̣s hunc ̣ annum ̣t otum’— —n ̣ĕquĕ cum q ̣uiquam ălĭo ̣ quĭd ̣em. add ̣onĕ? | a ̣dde, et ̣scribas u ̣ĭdĕ plan ̣e et prŏb ̣e. 755 ‘ălĭe ̣nŭm | h ̣ŏmĭnĕm ̣ | intro m ̣ ittat n ̣emĭn ̣em. icŭm | aut păt quŏd ĭll ̣a aut ăm ̣ ̣ ̣ronum n ̣omĭn ̣et, a ae aut q ̣uŏd ĭll ăm ̣ icae ̣sŭ ămat ̣orem p ̣raedĭc ̣et, fŏr ̣es occ ̣lusae | o ̣mnĭb ̣us sint n ̣ĭsĭ tĭb ̣i. in ̣fŏrĭbus ̣scribat ̣ occŭp ̣atăm ̣ | essĕ ̣se. aut q ̣uŏd ĭllă d ̣icat p ̣ĕrĕgre all ̣atam ĕp ̣istŭl ̣am, ne ĕp ̣istŭl ̣ă quĭdĕm ̣ | ullă ̣sit ĭn ̣ aedĭb ̣us nec c ̣erat ̣a ădĕo ̣t ăbŭla, et ̣si qua ĭn ̣utĭli ̣s pict ̣ură ̣sit, ĕăm u ̣endat: n ̣i in quăd ̣ridŭo ̣ ăb ̣ălĭen ̣auerit q ̣uo abs te arg ̣entum acc ̣epĕr ̣it, tŭŭs ̣ arbĭt ̣ratus ̣sit, comb ̣uras, ̣si uĕl ̣is, ne ill ̣i sit c ̣era ŭbĭ ̣făcĕrĕ p ̣ossit ̣littĕr ̣as.

760

765

uŏc ̣et conu ̣iuam n ̣emĭn ̣em illă, ̣t u uŏc ̣es. ăd ĕo ̣rum n ̣e quĕm ̣ | ŏcŭlos ̣ ădĭcĭa ̣t sŭo ̣s. si q ̣uem ălĭum a ̣spexit, c ̣aecă c ̣ontĭnŭo ̣ sĭe ̣t. tec ̣um una p ̣ostĕa a ̣eque p ̣oclă p ̣otĭt ̣et:

770

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

→→ DIAB

PAL DIAB PAL DIAB PAL

DIAB PAL DIAB PAL

81

LOVERBOY DIABOLUS + PALOOKA All right. Show us. The contract you’ve scripted, 746–829: between: spoken me; playmate; madam. Rendition of conditions. verse See, you’re the one and only poet, straight up, for the deal. I’ll see madam shudder, when she hears the conditions. Go, please. Lord, a transmition for me. Listening? Listening. 750 Diabolus, son of Le Gris, to Cle-areta, Mme, pays the fee of twenty minae, cash, no strings, for Philaenium to be with him both night and day this year’s duration . . . —And with no one else, either. Insert? Yes, insert. See your script is plain and proper.

755

Person or persons from outside: she shall let inside: none. Item, she does name said person “friend” or “patron”; or, item, does proclaim him her playmate’s lover: doors be shut for all & sundry, yourself excluded; on said door, she shall give written notice “I’m engaged.”

760

Or, item, a letter, quoth she, is fetched from abroad: no letter whatsoever even be in the house, nor so much as a wax tablet; in case there be dud daub, she shall sell; unless within a three day period, from receipt of cash from you, transfer is effected, it shall be in your writ, re: disposal by fire, so as to forbid her wax, viz: whereon she might write.

765

Party-guest, invitations: she shall make: none; you shall. Of which parties, she shall fix her eyes upon: none. In case she has eyed another, she shall go blind, forthwith. Thereafter, in harness with you, she shall down glasses:

770

82

DIAB

PAR

Asinaria: The One about the Asses abs ̣t ed acc ̣ĭpĭat, ̣t ĭbĭ prŏp ̣inet, ̣t u bĭb ̣as, ne ill ̣ă mĭnŭs ̣ aut plus q ̣uam tu ̣săpĭat.’ ̣sătĭs plăc ̣et.

‘sus ̣picĭo ̣nes ̣ omnis ̣ ab se ̣segrĕg ̣et. nĕq ̣ue illaec ̣ ulli p ̣ĕdĕ pĕd ̣ĕm | hŏmĭn ̣i prĕm ̣ at, cum ̣surgat. n ̣ĕquĕ cum in ̣lectum ins ̣cendat p ̣roxĭm ̣ um nĕquĕ c ̣um des ̣cendat ̣ indĕ, d ̣et cu iq ̣uam măn ̣um.

775

spect ̣andum n ̣e cui | a ̣nŭl ̣um det n ̣ĕquĕ rŏg ̣et. tal ̣os ne c ̣uiquăm ̣ ŏuĕat n ̣ĭsĭ tĭb ̣i. ̣ | hŏmĭni adm cum ̣iăcĭat, ‘t ̣e’ ne d ̣icat: n ̣omen n ̣omĭn ̣et.

780

dĕam ̣i nuŏc ̣et sĭbĭ q ̣uam lĭb ̣ebit p ̣rŏpĭtĭa ̣m, deum n ̣ullum. ̣si măgĭs ̣rĕlĭgĭo ̣să ̣fúĕr ̣it, tĭbĭ d ̣icat: ̣t u pro ill ̣a ores ̣ ut sit p ̣rŏpĭtĭu ̣s. nĕq ̣ue illa ull ̣i hŏmĭni n ̣utet, n ̣ictĕt ̣, annŭa ̣t.

DIAB

PAR DIAB PAR DIAB PAR DIAB PAR

post, ̣si lŭc ̣erna ext ̣inctă ̣sit, ne q ̣uid sŭi ̣ memb ̣ri comm ̣ ŏuĕat q ̣uidquam in ̣t ĕnĕbris ̣.’ optĭm ̣ e est. um ĭtă ̣scilĭc ̣et fact ̣uram. u ̣er in c ̣ŭbĭcŭl ̣o, dem ̣ e istuc ̣, ĕquĭdem ill ̣am mŏu ̣eri g ̣estĭo ̣. nol ̣o illam hăb ̣erĕ c ̣ausam et u ̣ĕtĭtam d ̣icĕr ̣e. scĭŏ, c ̣aptĭo ̣nes m ̣ ĕtŭis. u ̣erum. erg ̣o ut iŭb ̣es, toll ̣am? quidn ̣i? audi ̣rĕlĭcŭă ̣. lŏquĕr ̣e, audĭo ̣. ‘nĕq ̣ue ullum u ̣erbum ̣făcĭat p ̣erplex ̣abĭl ̣e nĕq ̣ue ulla ̣lingua ̣scĭăt lŏq ̣ui nĭs ̣i Attĭc ̣a.

785

790

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

DIAB

PAL

83

plied by you, she’ll toast you, & hand back for you to drink, so taste she’ll have, no less no more, than: you. Enough. Approved. Behaviour giving rise to suspicion: stay aloof: all. 775 Neither shall she inch toe to toe with any person, when she gets to her feet; nor when she mounts the next couch or dismounts from it, shall she hold out her hand: to none. Ring, inspection of: she shall offer, or request: none. Ankle-bones, dicing with: she shall press them on: no one, you excluded; when she throws, shan’t say “For you”: name names.

780

Prayers, to goddess: of her choice, “Show kindness”: any; prayers, to god: none; save that, should she be jinxed worse, she shall tell you, and you plead in her stead, “Do be kind.” Nodding, to a person: she shall nudge, wink, nod “yes”: to none.

DIAB

PAL DIAB PAL DIAB PAL DIAB PAL

785 After that, “afterwards”: if the lamp snuffs, she shall not move one limb of hers in the dark: not at all. Perfect. For sure, that’s how she’ll act. But . . .—but in the bedroom, delete that bit, I do get off on the movements she makes. I don’t want her having a point, and saying she’s barred. I know: frightened of quibbles. True. So, as per your orders, 790 I’ll remove it? Why not? Hear the rest. Speak, I hear you.

Language: she shall utter no word of aporia: none. and she shall know to speak in no tongue bar Attic: none.

84

Asinaria: The One about the Asses forte ̣si tuss ̣ire occ ̣epsit, n ̣e sic ̣t ussĭa ̣t ut c ̣u iquam ̣linguam in ̣t ussĭe ̣ndo p ̣rosĕr ̣at.

795

quŏd ĭll ̣a autem ̣sĭmŭlet q ̣uăsĭ grău ̣edo p ̣roflŭa ̣t, hoc n ̣e sic ̣făcĭat: ̣t u lăb ̣ellum abst ̣ergĕa ̣s pŏtĭu ̣s quam c ̣u iquam ̣sauĭu ̣m făcĭa ̣t păla ̣m.

DIAB PAR

nec m ̣ ater ̣l ena ad u ̣inum acc ̣edat ̣ intĕr ̣im nĕc ̣ ulli u ̣erbo m ̣ ălĕ dic ̣at. si d ̣ixĕr ̣it, haec m ̣ ulta ei e ̣sto, u ̣ino u ̣igint ̣i dĭe ̣s ut c ̣ărĕat.’ p ̣ulcre ̣scripsti. ̣scitum ̣syngrăp ̣hum. ‘tum ̣si cŏr ̣onas, ̣serta, un ̣guentă ̣iussĕr ̣it anc ̣illam ̣ferrĕ V ̣ ĕnĕri | a ̣ut Cŭp ̣idĭn ̣i, tŭŭs ̣seruus ̣seruet V ̣ ĕnĕrin ̣e eas det ̣ an uĭr ̣o.

800

805

si ̣fortĕ p ̣ure u ̣elle hăb ̣erĕ d ̣ixĕr ̣it, tot n ̣octes ̣reddat ̣spurcas q ̣uot pur ̣e hăbŭĕr ̣it.’

DIAB PAR →→ DIAB

haec ̣sunt non n ̣ugae, n ̣on ĕnĭm m ̣ ortŭa ̣lĭa ̣ . plăc ̣ent prŏf ̣ecto ̣leges. ̣sĕquĕre int ̣ro. sĕq ̣uor. ADVLESCENS = AMATOR = DIABOLVS + PARASITVS sĕquĕr ̣e hac. ĕg ̣one haec p ̣ătĭar ̣ aut tăcĕam? e ̣mŏr ̣i me m ̣ alim q ̣uam haec non ̣ eiŭs ̣ uxor ̣i indĭc ̣em. ai sne ̣t u? ăpŭd ăm ̣ icam m ̣ unŭs ̣ ădŭlesc ̣entŭl ̣i e i e fung ̣ar , ux ̣or exc ̣uses ̣t et dic ̣as sĕn ̣em? praer ̣ĭpĭas ̣scortum ăm ̣ anti atq ̣ue argent ̣um ŏbĭcĭa ̣s len ̣ae? supp ̣iles c ̣lam dŏm ̣ i uxor ̣em tŭa ̣m? susp ̣endam p ̣ŏtĭus m ̣ e quam ̣t ăcĭta haec ̣t u aufĕr ̣as. iam q ̣uĭdem hĕrcle ăd ̣ illam hinc ̣ ibo, q ̣uam tu p ̣rŏpĕdĭe ̣m,

→→

810

815

Asinaria: The One about the Asses Coughing: if she happens to start, she shall not cough, such that in coughing so, she snakes out her tongue: at no one.

85

795

Item: suppose she does ham up a snot-runny cold, she shall not make like this. You shall wipe her lip clean rather than she openly fakes a kiss: for no one.

DIAB PAL

Mother: meanwhile, Mme shall not join in the wine: none; 800 nor badmouth: no one; not one word. In case she so does, her fine shall be this: twenty days complete lay-off from the wine: none. Lovely script from you. Real pro of a contract. Next, votives: in case she gives orders to her maid, to fetch crowns, or garlands, or oils, to Venus or to Cupid: your slave shall watch, “Does she endow Venus?.” “Or a man?”

805

Staying clean: in case she happens to say she wants that, she shall make as many nights filthy as she stayed clean.

DIAB PAL

→→ DIAB

Load of nonsense this is not. This is no wake, just asleep. Conditions approved. That’s a fact. Follow me in. I do.

LOVERBOY DIABOLUS + PALOOKA Follow this way. Me? Suffer this? Keep mum? Sheer death I’d rather die than not inform on him to his wife.

→→

810

You . . .—you reckon? You’d play the part of a boyo at the playmate’s, make excuses to the wife “I’m old”? You’d snatch a tart from loverboy, and chuck cash at madame? You’d pillage your wife back home and stay mum? 815 I’d sooner swing than let you take it away, and freeze. Now, though, lord, I’m off to her. The woman you’ll shortly

86

PAR

DIAB

PAR DIAB →→→→

ARG DEM ARG DEM ARG

DEM ARG DEM

Asinaria: The One about the Asses nĭsĭ q ̣uĭdem ĭlla ant ̣e occŭp ̣assit ̣t e, efflĭg ̣es scĭo ̣, lux ̣ŭrĭae ̣sumptus ̣suppĕdĭt ̣are ut p ̣ossĭe ̣s. ĕgŏ ̣sic făcĭe ̣ndum c ̣ensĕo ̣: me hŏn ̣estĭu ̣s est quam ̣t e păl ̣am hanc rem ̣făcĕrĕ, n ̣e illa ex ̣istĭm ̣ et um id fecissĕ t e ăm oris c ausa p ercit ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ măgĭs q ̣uam su a c ̣ausa. at p ̣ol qui d ̣ixti ̣rectĭu ̣s. tu erg ̣o făc ŭt ̣ illi ̣t urbas, ̣l itis c ̣oncĭa ̣s, cum ̣suo sĭb ̣í nat ̣o unam ăd ăm ̣ icam d ̣e dĭe ̣ e am pot ̣ar , ill ̣ expil ̣arĕ n ̣arra. n ̣e mŏn ̣e, ĕgo ĭst ̣uc cur ̣abo. | ă ̣t ĕgŏ ̣t e oppĕrĭa ̣r dŏm ̣ i.

825

→→

ADVLESCENS ARGYRIPPVS + SENEX DEMAENETVS (+ MERETRIX PHILAENIVM; PVERI MVTI) ăgĕ d ̣ecumb ̣amus ̣siuis, păt ̣er. ŭt ̣i ussĕr ̣is, mi n ̣ate, ĭtă ̣fiet. p ̣ŭĕri, m ̣ ensam app ̣onĭte ̣. numq ̣uidnam ̣t ĭbĭ mŏl ̣estum est, n ̣atĕ m ̣ i, si haec n ̣unc mec ̣um accŭb ̣at? 830–50: am o pĭĕt ̣as, păt ̣er, ŏcŭl ̣is dŏl ̣orem p ̣rŏhĭbet. q ̣uamqu ĕg iambic ĭst ̣anc ăm octonarii ̣ o, poss ̣um ĕquĭdem ind ̣ucĕr ̣e ănĭmum n ̣e aegre p ̣ătĭar q ̣uĭă tec ̣um accŭb ̣at. dĕc ̣et uĕr ̣ecund ̣um esse ădŭl ̣escent ̣em, Argy˘ ̣rippe. ĕdĕp ̣ol, păt ̣er, mĕrĭt ̣o tu o ̣făcĕrĕ p ̣ossum. ăg ̣e erg ̣o, hoc ăgĭtem ̣ us conu ̣iuĭu ̣m uin ̣o ut serm ̣ onĕ ̣suaui. n ̣olo ĕgŏ m ̣ ĕtŭi, ăm ̣ ari m ̣ auŏl ̣o,

ARG

820

mi n ̣atĕ, m ̣ e abs te. p ̣ŏl ĕgo ŭt ̣rumquĕ ̣făcĭo, ŭt ̣ aequum est filĭum. ̣ ̣

835

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

PAL

DIAB

PAR DIAB →→

ARG DEM ARG DEM ARG

DEM ARG DEM

ARG

rub out, if she hasn’t nipped in front of you, as I know, to feed the habit of high-maintenance luxury. I vote it be done this way: it’s more respectable for me to do this deed than you. Or else she may think you’ve done it for love, because you’ve been shattered, more than for her sake. Yes, sure, your way talks straighter.

87

820

Make sure you stir up lots of trouble and strife for him: “His son alongside, with the one playmate, at the drink: 825 partying by day; and pillaging her”—tell her all. No briefing, I’ll fix it good. Well I’ll be home waiting for you. →→ BOY ARGYRIPPUS + SENIOR CITIZEN DEMAENETUS (+ WHORE PHILAENIUM; PAGES, NON-SPEAKING PARTS) Come, places please, father, let’s loll. Thy will and command, son of mine, will be done. Garçons, bring on the table. Not a bit of a nuisance, is it, son of mine, if she’s installed by my side? 830–947: Devotion, father, keeps the pain out of my eyes. recitative Even though I love her, verse I can coax my mind, into not taking it hard she’s installed by your side. It’s fitting a boy be respectful, Argyrippus. Surely, father, you deserve it, so I can do it. So come on, let’s make this a party . . . —sweet wine, sweet talk go together. I don’t want your fear, I 835 prefer love, son of mine. From you to me. Sure I do—do both—it’s fair a son should.

88 DEM

Asinaria: The One about the Asses cred ̣am istuc, ̣si essĕ ̣t e hĭlărum u ̣idĕr ̣o. an tu m ̣ e trist ̣em pŭt ̣as?

ARG

DEM

pŭt ̣em ĕgŏ, quem u ̣ĭdĕam aeq ̣ue essĕ m ̣ aestum ut q ̣uăsĭ dĭe ̣s si d ̣ictă ̣sit? ne d ̣ixis ̣ istuc. n ̣e sic ̣fŭĕris ̣. ilĭc ̣o ĕgŏ non d ̣ixĕr ̣o. 839+840

ARG

em aspecta: ridĕo.

DEM ARG

̣

̣

ŭ ̣tĭnam m ̣ ălĕ qui m ̣ ĭhĭ uŏl ̣unt sic ̣ridĕa ̣nt.

DEM ARG

DEM ARG DEM

scĭo ĕ ̣quĭdem q ̣uam ob rem m ̣ e, păt ̣er, tu ̣t ristem c ̣redas n ̣unc tĭb ̣i: quĭa ĭst ̣aec est ̣t ecum. atq ̣ue ĕgŏ quĭd ̣em hercle ut u ̣erum ̣t ĭbĭ dic ̣am, păt ̣er, ĕă ̣res me m ̣ ăle hăbet ̣. at non ̣ eo quĭă ̣t ĭbĭ non c ̣ŭpĭam q ̣uae uĕl ̣is, uer ̣um istam ăm ̣ o. ălĭam ̣t ecum ess ̣e ĕquĭdem ̣făcĭlĕ p ̣ossum 845 p ̣erpĕt ̣i. ăt ĕg ̣o hanc uŏl ̣o. ergo ̣sunt quae ex ̣optas: m ̣ ĭhĭ quae ĕg ̣o exopt ̣em uŏl ̣o. un ̣um hunc dĭe ̣m perp ̣ĕtĕrĕ, q ̣uŏnĭam ̣t ĭbĭ pŏt ̣estat ̣em dĕd ̣i, cum hac ̣ annum ŭt ̣ esses ̣, atque ăm ̣ anti arg ̣enti ̣feci c ̣opĭa ̣m.

ARG DEM

→→ MAT

em ist oc me facto t ĭbĭ deuinxti.

̣

̣

̣

̣

q ̣uin te erg ̣o hĭlărum d ̣as 849+850 mĭhi ̣? MATRONA = ARTEMONA (CVM ANCILLIS MVTIS) + PARASITVS a ̣i sne tu m ̣ eum uĭrum h ̣ic pot ̣arĕ, | o ̣bsĕc ̣ro, cum ̣filĭo ̣ ĕ ̣t ăd ăm ̣ icam d ̣etŭl ̣isse arg ̣enti u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as

851–947: trochaic septenarii

m ̣ eoquĕ ̣filĭo ̣ scĭe ̣nte id ̣făcĕrĕ ̣flagĭtĭu ̣m păt ̣rem?

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

89

DEM

I’ll believe that if and when I see you’re happy. You think this is me blue? I’m going to, aren’t I, when I see you fair sad as if facing trial?

ARG

Don’t talk that way.

DEM

Don’t be like that. Right away I’ll stop 839+840 talking that way. Ow, just watch me smile. How I wish folk who mean me bad would smile that smile. Certainly I know why it is, Father, you credit me blue over you:

DEM ARG

ARG DEM ARG

DEM ARG DEM

ARG DEM

→→ MRS

’cos she is with you. And yes, too, lord, tell you the godhonest truth, father, this scene hurts me bad. No, not that I’m not passionate for you, all you want, but I love her. Certainly, I can endure some girl and you. 845 Easy. Well, I want her, I do. So you got your wish: I want my wish for me. You’ll endure this one single day through. Because I’ve handed you power to be with her for a year, I’ve come up with the cash to fund loverboy. Ow! Doing that bound me to you, fast. So won’t you hand me a happy you? 849+850 MISTRESS = ARTEMONA (+ MAIDS, NON-SPEAKING PARTS) + PALOOKA So you say my husband’s at the drink, partying here with the son, that he’s fetched the sum of twenty minae cash down to his playmate, and with my son’s full knowledge his father’s perpetrating this shame?

90 PAR

MAT

Asinaria: The One about the Asses n ̣ĕquĕ diu ̣ini n ̣ĕquĕ mi hum ̣ ani p ̣osthac q ̣uidquam acc ̣redŭa ̣s, A ̣ e mend ̣acem inu ̣enĕr ̣is. ̣ rtĕm ̣ onă, ̣si huius ̣rei essĕ m a a ̣t scĕl ̣est ĕgŏ p ̣raetĕr ̣ ălĭos m ̣ eum uĭr ̣um frug ̣i răt ̣a,

855

̣siccum, ̣frugi, c ̣ontĭn ̣entem, ăm ̣ antem ux ̣oris m ̣ axĭm ̣ e. PAR

MAT PAR

MAT

a ̣t nunc d ̣eh inc scit ̣o illum ant ̣e omnis m ̣ ĭnĭmi m ̣ ortal ̣em prĕt ̣i, m ̣ ădĭdum, n ̣ĭhĭli, inc ̣ontĭn ̣entem atq ̣ue osor ̣em uxor ̣is sŭa ̣e. p ̣ol ni ist ̣aec uer ̣a essent, n ̣umquam ̣făcĕret ̣ ĕă quae n ̣unc 860 făc ̣it. ĕ ̣gŏ quŏq ̣ue hercle ill ̣um anteh ac ̣ hŏmĭnem ̣semper ̣sum frug ̣i răt ̣us, u ̣erum hoc ̣facto ̣sese ost ̣endit, q ̣ui quĭd ̣em cum ̣filĭo ̣ p ̣otĕt ̣ una atq ̣ue una ăm ̣ icam d ̣uctet, d ̣ecrĕpĭt ̣us sĕn ̣ex. h ̣oc ec ̣astor ̣ est quŏd ̣ ille it ̣ ad cen ̣am cott ̣idĭe ̣. a ̣i t ses ̣e ire ăd A ̣ rchĭd ̣emum, C ̣ haerĕa ̣m, Chaer ̣estrăt ̣um,

865

C ̣ linĭa ̣m, Chrĕm ̣ em, Crăt ̣inum, D ̣ inĭa ̣m, Dem ̣ osthĕn ̣em:

PAR

̣ĭs ăpud ̣scortum c ̣orrupt ̣elae est ̣libĕr ̣is, lust ̣ris stŭd ̣et. q ̣uin tu ill ̣um iŭb ̣es anc ̣illas ̣răpĕrĕ ̣sublim ̣ em dŏm ̣ um?

PAR

̣t ăcĕ mŏd ̣o. ne ill ̣um mec ̣astor m ̣ ĭsĕrum hăb ̣ebo. ĕgo ĭst ̣uc scĭo ̣.

MAT

̣ĭtă fŏr ̣e illi d ̣um quĭdĕm c ̣um illo n ̣upta ĕr ̣ĭs. ĕgŏ c ̣ensĕo ̣.

MAT

ĕ ̣um ĕtĭam h ̣ŏmĭnem aut ̣ in sĕn ̣atu d ̣ăre ŏpĕr ̣am aut clĭe ̣ntĭb ̣us, ̣ĭ bĭ lăb ̣orĕ d ̣elass ̣atum n ̣octem ̣t otam ̣stertĕr ̣e. ̣ e aduĕn ̣it: ̣ille ŏpĕr ̣i fŏr ̣is făcĭe ̣ndo ̣lassus n ̣octu ad m

870

Asinaria: The One about the Asses PAL

MRS

PAL

MRS PAL

MRS

PAL

91

In the realm of the gods, or mankind, credit me no more at all, Artemona, if you find I’m lying about any of this. 855 Yes, accursed I am: I thought my husband was good past other men . . . —a stay-dry good guy, under control: loved his wife most of them all. Yet, now and henceforth, know he is, beyond all, the creature worth least . . . —a stay-wet nothingness, out of control: and his wife’s loather. Sure, if all that weren’t true, he’d never do what he’s doing 860 right now. I too, lord, before now always thought him to be a good person, but by this act he’s shown who he is, having his son alongside at the drink, to party and co-date playmate: one clapped-out old boy. Our Lady that’s what was going on, “I’m out to dinner” each day. Said “I’m off out, from A through Archie Premier’s, Bonjour’s, 865 Bonjourarmée’s, Couchette’s, Hennir’s, Kratinus’, L’Estrange’s, Orateur Démosthène’s. Now he’s chez tart. A freeborn child’s perversion, lover of morass. Why not order your maid servants: “Lift him high, kidnap him, back home”?

MRS

Now, shh. By our lady, I’ll make him pitiful.

PAL

That’s for sure. I know that’s how it shall be for him, long as you’re married. I’ll vote for that. 870 That hombré! It’s “I must attend the senate” or “tend to clients.”

MRS

It’s “I’m worn out with the work there,” and it’s snoring all through the night. He’s “been working away,” so he’s “tired” when he comes back to me nights.

92

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ̣fundum ălĭe ̣num ar ̣at, inc ̣ultum ̣fămĭlĭa ̣rem d ̣esĕr ̣it. ̣ĭs ĕtĭa ̣m corr ̣uptus p ̣orro ̣suum corr ̣umpit ̣filĭu ̣m.

PAR MAT PAR MAT PAR

875

̣sĕquĕre hac m ̣ e mŏd ̣o, iam ̣faxo ips ̣um hŏmĭnem m ̣ ănĭfest ̣o opprĭm ̣ as. n ̣ĭhĭl ec ̣astor ̣ est quod ̣făcĕrĕ m ̣ auĕl ̣im. mănĕd ̣um. quĭd ̣ est? e p ̣ossis, ̣si fort ̣ accŭb ̣antem ̣t uum uĭr ̣um cons ̣pexĕr ̣is c ̣um cŏr ̣ona amp ̣lexum ămi ̣cam, ̣si uĭdĕa ̣s, cog ̣noscĕr ̣e?

MAT {PAR} {MAT} {PAR}

ARG DEM

p ̣ossum ec ̣astor ̣. {em tĭb ̣i hŏmĭnem.} {p ̣ĕrĭi.} {p ̣aulisp ̣er măn ̣e. 880 i a ̣u cŭp ̣emŭs ̣ ex ins ̣ĭdĭis c ̣lancŭl ̣um quam ̣rem gĕr ̣ant.}

q ̣uid mŏd ̣i, păt ̣ĕr, amp ̣lexando ̣făcĭes? ̣fătĕor, n ̣atĕ m ̣ i—

DEM

—q ̣uid făt ̣erĕ? —m ̣ e ex ăm ̣ orĕ | h ̣uius c ̣orrupt ̣um oppĭd ̣o.

{PAR}

{a ̣udisne q ̣uĭd ăit ̣?}

{MAT}

{audĭo.} ĕ ̣gŏne ut n ̣on dŏm ̣ o uxor ̣i mĕa ̣e am am ̣surrĭpĭ ̣in del ̣ĭcĭis p ̣allam q ̣u hăbĕt atq ̣ue ad te d ̣efĕr ̣am? n ̣on ĕdĕp ̣ol cond ̣uci p ̣ossum u ̣ita ux ̣orĭs ̣ annŭa ̣ .

ARG

DEM>PHIL

{PAR} {MAT}

{c ̣ensesne ̣t u illum hŏdĭe ̣ primum ̣irĕ | a ̣ssuet ̣um esse in g ̣anĕu ̣m?} {i ̣lle ec ̣astor ̣suppil ̣abat m ̣ e, quŏd ̣ ancill ̣as mĕa ̣s e ̣ ĭsĕras c ̣rŭcĭab ̣am.} ̣suspĭc ̣abar ̣ atqu ins ̣ontis m

885

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

PAL MRS PAL MRS PAL

MRS {PAL} {MRS} {PAL}

ARG DEM ARG DEM {PAL} {MRS} DEM>PHIL

{PAL} {MRS}

93

He’s ploughing someone else’s farmstead, leaves his own home abandoned. And now he’s full perverted, he’s perverting his very 875 own son. Just follow this way. I’ll soon see you drop the hombré, in the act. There’s nothing, Our Lady, I’d rather do. Hang on a mo’. Whassup? You could, I suppose, happen you catch sight of your husband installed with crown, hugging playmate, if you saw him . . .—could you tell it is him? Lady, I could. {Pow. There he is, yours.} {I’m done for.} {Hang on a bit. 880 Let’s catch birds from our ambush, from the hide let’s net ’em . . .—their fowl play.} What cap, father, will you put on hugging? I admit, son of mine . . . —“Admit” what? . . . —that for love of her I’m now an . . . instant . . . undone . . .—wreck. {Hear what he says?} {I hear.} Aren’t I going to steal from the Mrs., back home, a stole she rates one of her darlings, then fetch it 885 to you? Surely, I can’t be hired not to. Not for . . . a year of . . . the wife’s . . .—life. {You vote today’s trip to an eatery’s him starting up a habit?} {Our Lady, he’s been stealing from me. I suspected my servants, and I set about torturing those pitiful, innocent maids.}

94

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

ARG>DEM

păt ̣er, ̣ um bĭb ̣i. 890 ̣iŭbĕ dăr ̣i uin ̣um: iamd ̣udum ̣factum est c ̣um prim

DEM>PUER

d ̣a, pŭĕr ̣e, ab summ ̣ o.

DEM>PHIL

ăgĕ tu int ̣ĕrĭbi ăb ̣ infĭm ̣ o da ̣sauĭu ̣m.

DEM

{p ̣ĕrĭi m ̣ ĭsĕra, ŭt ̣ oscŭl ̣atur c ̣arnĭf ̣ex, căpŭl ̣i dĕc ̣us.} ĕ ̣dĕpŏl ̣ ănĭmam ̣suauĭo ̣rem ălĭq ̣uanto q ̣uam uxor ̣is mĕa ̣e.

PHIL

d ̣ic ăm ̣ abo, an ̣foetet ̣ ănĭmă | u ̣xor ̣is tua e?

{MAT}

DEM

n ̣autĕa ̣m

b ̣ĭbĕrĕ m ̣ alim, ̣si nĕc ̣essum ̣sit, quam ill ̣am oscŭl ̣arĭe ̣r. {MAT}

895

{a ̣ i sne tand ̣em? ĕdĕpol n ̣e tu |i ̣stuc c ̣um măl ̣o mag ̣no tŭo ̣ d ̣ixist ̣i in me. ̣sĭnĕ, rĕu ̣ĕnĭas m ̣ ŏdŏ dŏm ̣ um, fax ̣o ut scĭa ̣s

PHIL>DEM {MAT}

q ̣uid pĕr ̣icli ̣sit dot ̣atae ux ̣ori u ̣ĭtĭum d ̣icĕr ̣e.} m ̣ ĭsĕr ec ̣astor ̣ es. {ec ̣astor d ̣ignŭs ̣ est.}

{PAR}

quĭd ăi ̣s, păt ̣er? e ̣cquid m ̣ as? ̣ atrem ăm ĕgŏn ̣e illam? n ̣unc ăm ̣ o—quĭă n ̣on 900 ăd ̣est. q ̣uid cum ăd ̣est? pĕrĭi ̣ssĕ c ̣ŭpĭo. | ă ̣măt hŏm ̣ o hic te ut p ̣raedĭc ̣at.

{MAT}

{n ̣e illa ec ̣astor ̣faenĕr ̣ato ̣fundĭt ̣at: nam ̣si dŏm ̣ um

ARG>DEM DEM ARG DEM

̣rĕdĭĕr ̣it hŏdĭe, o ̣scŭl ̣ando ĕg ̣o ulcisc ̣ar pŏt ̣issĭm ̣ um.}

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ARG>DEM

DEM>BOY DEM>PHIL {MRS} DEM PHIL DEM

{MRS}

PHIL>DEM {MRS} ARG>DEM DEM ARG DEM {PAL}

{MRS}

95

Father, order wine be served. It’s now donkey’s years since my first 890 drink. Garçon, serve from my right. Meanwhile, come, you serve, from left field, a . . .—kiss. {I’ve had it, poor thing. Those kisses! Executioner. Coffin’s pride.} Surely, this breath is con-sider-ab-ly sweeter than my wife’s breath. Tell me, please, lover, do. Does your wife’s breath stink? You know bilge water? Well, I’d sooner drink that, if I had to, than have a kiss 895 with her. {Finally come out with that? Surely, a Big B-a-d’s all yours, for what you’ve said against me. Lemme at you, just come home. I’ll see you know what a risk goes along with abusing The Wife With A Dowry.} By Our Lady, you’re pitiful. {Lord he deserves it.} Tell me, father, d’you love mother? Her? Me? I love her right now. For . . .— 900 not being here. How ’bout when she’s here? I long for her . . .—dead. {He loves you . . .— so he says.} {Sure, Lady, he’s pouring the stuff out—he’ll pay . . .—interest: once he’s home, returning today, then kissing shall be my ultimate . . .—revenge.}

96

Asinaria: The One about the Asses

ARG

̣i ăcĕ, păt ̣er, tal ̣os, ut p ̣orro n ̣os iăcĭa ̣mus.

DEM

m ̣ axĭm ̣ e. ̣ ortem. hoc ̣t e, Phĭl ̣aenĭu ̣m, mĭh ̣i atque ux ̣oris m V ̣ ĕnĕrĭu ̣m est. p ̣ŭĕri, p ̣laudĭt ̣e, et mi ob ̣iactum c ̣anthăr ̣o muls ̣um dăt ̣e.

905

{MAT}

{n ̣on quĕo ̣ dura ̣rĕ.}

{PAR}

{s ̣i non d ̣ĭdĭcist ̣i full ̣onĭa ̣m, n ̣on mir ̣andum est ̣, Artĕm ̣ ona, ĭn ŏ ̣cŭlos ̣ inuad ̣i optĭm ̣ um est.}

MAT>DEM

È ̣GŎ POL V ̣ IVam et ̣t u istaec ̣ hŏdĭe c ̣um tŭo ̣ magno ̣ măl ̣o ̣inuŏc ̣asti. | e ̣cquis c ̣urrit p ̣ollinct ̣orem acc ̣ersĕr ̣e? m ̣ ater, ̣salue. ̣sat săl ̣utis. {m ̣ ortŭu ̣ s est Dem ̣ aenĕt ̣us.

{PAR} ARG>MAT MAT>ARG {PAR}

910

̣t empŭs ̣ est subd ̣ucĕr ̣e hinc me. p ̣ulchre hoc g ̣liscit p ̣roelĭu ̣m.

̣ ĭăbŏl ̣um, mand ̣ată d ̣icam ̣facta ut u ̣ŏlŭĕr ̣it, ̣ibo ad D a ̣tque int ̣ĕrĕa ut d ̣ecumb ̣amus ̣suadeb ̣o, hi dum ̣l itĭg ̣ant.

MAT>PHIL

p ̣ostĕ d ̣emum huc c ̣ras add ̣ucam ad ̣lenam, ut u ̣igint ̣i mĭn ̣as

915

e ̣i det ̣, in part ̣em hac ăm ̣ anti ut ̣lĭcĕăt ̣ e i pŏt ̣irĭe ̣r. A ̣ rgy˘ ̣rippŭs ̣ exor ̣ari ̣spero p ̣ŏtĕrĭt ̣ ut sĭn ̣at ̣sese alt ̣ernas c ̣um illo n ̣octes ̣ hac frŭi ̣. nam n ̣i impĕt ̣ro, ̣ orĕ ̣t antum est ̣ hŏmĭni inc ̣endĭu ̣m.} ̣regem p ̣erdĭd ̣i: ex ăm

→

q ̣uid tĭb ̣i hunc rĕc ̣eptĭo a ̣d te est m ̣ eum uĭr ̣um?

Asinaria: The One about the Asses ARG DEM

{MRS} {PAL}

MRS>DEM {PAL} ARG>MRS MRS>ARG {PAL}

97

Throw the ankle-bones, father, then I can throw dice next. Certainly: Philaenium for me, death for the wife. Bullseye, it’s a Venus. 905 Garçons, clap your hands, and for my throw serve mead into my tankard. {I just cannot endure it.} {If you didn’t learn the fulling trade, no wonder, Artemona. “Get into his sight” will be perfect.} Sure, I shall live. A Big Bad is yours, for that cursing, that praying, you went in for. {Will someone run to get the undertaker, quick?} 910 Mother, goo’day. Enough “goo’day”-ing. {Demaenetus, Dead-meat-us. My cue to subtract me from the scene. This battle’s boiling up beaut. I’m off to Diabolus, to tell him his plans went as he wished. Meantime we’ll loll on a couch, I’ll persuade him, while this lot do strife. Later, lastly, I’ll bring him here to madam, with twenty 915 minae to pay, so monopolizing her will be on for him, in part. Argyrippus, I hope, will let pleading work on him, agree to share with him, enjoy her alternate nights. See, if I’m no farther, I’ve wasted a king. For love, this hombré turns to such a → fireball.}

MRS>PHIL

What’s this, you taking my husband in to you at your place?

98

Asinaria: The One about the Asses pol m ̣ e quĭd ̣em

PHIL

920

m ̣ ĭsĕrăm ̣ | ŏdĭo | e ̣nĭc ̣auit. S ̣VRGE, ĂM ̣ ATOR ̣, I DŎM ̣ VM.

MAT>DEM

DEM MAT

DEM MAT DEM

n ̣ullus ̣sum. immo es, n ̣e nĕg ̣a, omnĭum h ̣ŏmĭnum p ̣ol neq ̣uissĭm ̣ us. ă ̣t ĕtĭa ̣m cŭb ̣at cŭc ̣ulus. S ̣VRGE, ĂM ̣ ATOR ̣, I DŎM ̣ VM.

u ̣ae mĭh ̣í. uer ̣a hărĭŏl ̣arĕ. S ̣VRGE, ĂM ̣ ATOR ̣, I DŎM ̣ VM. a ̣bsced ̣e ergo p ̣aulŭl ̣um istuc. S ̣ VRGE, ĂM ̣ ATOR ̣, I DŎM ̣ VM.

MAT

DEM MAT

925

̣iam obsĕc ̣ro, uxor— —n ̣unc ux ̣orem m ̣ e essĕ m ̣ ĕmĭnist ̣i tŭa ̣m? m ̣ ŏdŏ, cum d ̣icta in m ̣ e gĕr ̣ebas ̣, ŏdĭum, n ̣on ux ̣or, ĕr ̣am.

MAT

{t ̣otus p ̣ĕrĭi.} q ̣uid tand ̣em? ănĭmă ̣foetetn ̣e uxor ̣is tŭa ̣e?

DEM

m ̣ urram ŏl ̣et.

{DEM}

MAT PHIL>MAT DEM>PHIL ARG>MAT MAT>ARG MAT>DEM

iam ̣surrĭpŭi ̣sti p ̣allam q ̣uam scort ̣o dăr ̣es? e ̣cast ̣or qui ̣surrupt ̣urum p ̣allam p ̣romis ̣it tĭb ̣i. n ̣on tăc ̣es? ĕgŏ d ̣issuad ̣ebam, m ̣ ater. b ̣ellum ̣filĭu ̣m. ̣istosc ̣ine păt ̣rem aequum est m ̣ ores ̣libĕr ̣is larg ̣irĭe ̣r? n ̣ilnĕ ̣t e pŭd ̣et?

930

Asinaria: The One about the Asses PHIL

Sure I’m

99 920

MRS>DEM

a poor thing, he’s murdered me—his puke. UP, LOVERMAN, HOME YOU GO.

DEM

I don’t exist.

MRS

You do, don’t deny it: surely, you are the pits. Yet, this cuckoo’s still there in the nest. UP, LOVERMAN, HOME YOU GO.

DEM MRS DEM MRS

Damn me. Soothsayer, you divine right. UP, LOVERMAN, HOME YOU GO. Give us space, just a bit, over there. UP, LOVERMAN, HOME YOU GO.

925

DEM

It’s time. I beg you, wife . . .

MRS

—So now you’ve remembered, I am your wife? Just now, you were piling insults onto me, I was “puke,” not “wife.”

{DEM}

{I’ve had it. A write-off.}

MRS DEM MRS PHIL>MRS DEM>PHIL ARG>MRS MRS>ARG MRS>DEM

Finally, this: “stinks,” does it, your “wife’s breath”? Myrrh’s the scent. You’ve already “stolen the stole, to give” to the tart? Lady, there’s the one who promised he’d rob a robe off you. 930 Will you shut up? Tried talking him out of it, mother. Lovely son . . . Is it right a father should shower those ways on a freeborn child? Have you no shame?

100

Asinaria: The One about the Asses pol, ̣si ălĭud n ̣il sit, ̣t u i me, ux ̣or, pŭd ̣et.

DEM>MAT

MAT>DEM

c ̣ano c ̣ăpĭtĕ ̣t e cŭc ̣ulŭm ̣ | uxor ̣ ex lust ̣ris răp ̣it.

DEM

n ̣on lĭc ̣et măn ̣erĕ—c ̣enă c ̣ŏquĭtur—d ̣um cen ̣em mŏd ̣o?

MAT

e ̣cast ̣or cen ̣abĭs ̣ hŏdĭe, | u ̣t dig ̣nus es—mag ̣num măl ̣um.

DEM

m ̣ ălĕ cŭb ̣andum est: ̣iudĭc ̣atum m ̣ e uxor ̣ abduc ̣it dŏm ̣ um.

ARG>DEM

d ̣iceb ̣am, păt ̣er, tĭb ̣í ne m ̣ atri c ̣onsŭlĕr ̣es măl ̣e.

PHIL>DEM

d ̣e pall ̣a mĕm ̣ ento, ăm ̣ abo. ̣iŭbĕsne hanc ̣ hinc absc ̣edĕr ̣e?

DEM>MAT MAT>DEM PHIL>DEM DEM>PHIL

PHIL>ARG ARG>PHIL

→→→→→

935

̣I DŎM ̣ UM. da ̣sauĭum ĕ ̣tĭam p ̣rĭŭs quam ăb ̣itĭs ̣. i in crŭc em. ̣

→→

̣i mmo int ̣us pŏtĭu ̣s. sĕquĕr ̣e hac me, m ̣ i ănĭmĕ. | ĕ ̣gŏ uer ̣o sĕq ̣uor. → → EPILOGVS = GREX h ̣ic sĕn ̣ex si q ̣uid clam ux ̣orem ̣sŭo ănĭm ̣ o fec ̣it uŏl ̣up, n ̣ĕquĕ nŏu ̣um nĕquĕ m ̣ irum ̣fecit n ̣ec sĕc ̣us quam ălĭi ̣ sŏl ̣ent. n ̣ec quisq ̣uam est tam ing ̣ĕnĭo d ̣uro n ̣ec tam ̣firmo p ̣ectŏr ̣e 945 q ̣uin ŭbĭ q ̣uidque occ ̣asĭo ̣nis ̣sit sĭb ̣í făcĭa ̣ t bĕn ̣e. n ̣unc si u ̣ultis d ̣eprĕc ̣ari | h ̣uic sĕn ̣i ne u ̣apŭl ̣at, ̣remur ̣ impĕt ̣rari p ̣ossĕ, p ̣lausum ̣si clar ̣um dăt ̣is.

Asinaria: The One about the Asses DEM>MRS

101

Sure, were there none else, wife, I’d be ashamed of . . .—you.

MRS>DEM

You’re the grey-headed cuckoo; your wife’s ripping you from the morass.

DEM

Can I not stay—dinner’s being cooked—just long enough for 935 dinner? Lady, you’ll have dinner today, the one you deserve . . .—a great Big . . . B-A-D.

MRS

DEM ARG>DEM PHIL>DEM DEM>MRS MRS>DEM PHIL>DEM DEM>PHIL

PHIL>ARG ARG>PHIL

→→→→→

Bad nesting, then: the wife has sentenced me, landed me to take home. I did tell you so, father. Told you not to go against mother. Don’t forget the stole, lover, please. Order her to give us space here. YOU, HOME, NOW. Give us a kiss before you all go. Up on your cross. → → Inside, instead. Follow me this way, heart of mine. Follow, yes please. → THE EPILOGUE = THE TROUPE This senior citizen kept from his wife what he did for his kicks: did nothing new, weird, or off the way other characters behave. There’s no one so hard-hearted, no one so intransigent minded, he wouldn’t, with the opportunity, do himself a good turn. 945 Now if you want to beg this senior off his beating, we believe, it can be got farther forward, if all your clapping pays out CL-EAR.

Language, Metre, and Text

Plautin Language and Latin Vocabulary The glosses include several items of U.K. and of U.S. colloquialism used in the translation. See also Index, Asinaria, s.v. wordplay and puns.

Key 1–15, 1 219+220

line numbers see note ad loc.

grex3, minitor 1 third declension, first conjugation, etc. grex(g-) in third declension, nominative (plus stem for other cases) + [ ]

a second (or third) word in the same line additional comment

1–15 The Prologue tells all | there’s nothing to tell, so listen Plautus prologues come in all sizes. This one keeps itself to itself, plays as “paratext,” preliminary to the play “proper.” Here to tell us it won’t tell us—much. In short, it does “short” (8). Defers to its audience: as ever, theatre needs your help (15). The fun will buzz to and fro between asses on stage and bums on seats. That’s the deal. 1 sultis = si uultis, if you will, plural of si uis, please [all over Plautus. Showing the slurred and elided vowels and semivowels makes the text look strange but read easy] 3 grex(g-)3 theatre-company [but this word for a herd will set the pace for As.] + dominus2: slave-owner, manager + con-ductor 3: hiring magistrate 4 face = fac [imperative] + praeco(n-)3: crier [p(ublic)

105

106

Language, Metre, and Text

a(ddress) man] + auritus: [long-]eared + poplus2 = populus [more such original forms down the line] 15 alias: at other times, [e.g.] previously.

16–126 Somewhere in theatre Greece . . . Father enlists Slave One to swindle Mother and fund Loverboy Son Dialogue sets the scene deferred from the prologue. Unusually, the focal comedy queen, pater, is already in the know; matrona will instead be the blocking power-figure, aka parent, holding the purse strings but in the dark. In colluding to buy his son time at the heterosex-for-hire agency (= “next door”), father plots along with and through the slave agents. From the off, they share (split and double) this single function. Hence their mateyness. Nice try, but it will never work: pater will still end up as fall guy. Our hero, without whom. . . . Our alibi for slipping the leash, for a play day away. . . . Now we’re ready to roll. 18 ted: you [more original pronoun ablatives in -d ahead] 20 med erga = erga me: toward me 21 siet [not yet contracted] = sit 27 actutum: immediately 29 hercle: lordy, by Hercules [ubiquitous expletive, men only] 34 fustitudinus, ferri-crepinus: “nonce” (one-off ) non-words [the slave skirts painful words for his world] 36 pol: sure, by Pollux [everybody’s expletive] 37 polenta1: barley flour 39 de-spuo3: spit out 40 morem gero3 [+ dative]: humour + ex-screo1: hawk up and spit out 41 penitus: innermost 43 si uis: see on 1. 45 ex-pers(t-)3: with no part in [+ ablative] 47 minitor1: threaten [vigorously] 49 sub-censeo2: get cross 56 sub-peto3: be available to [61 colloquial tamen in pretio sumus, “we are at a high value, are prized” here soundly trumps and displaces its unmarked prompt primus sentis, with tu + long syllables £ nos + shorts] 65 ob-sequentia1: obedience, favour (cf. 76, obsequi) 66 utantur arguably/provocatively introduces “utilitarian” self-interest into this paternal policy of befriending a son (why else . . . ?) 69 nau-clericus: of a ship-captain [naturalized Greek] 70 leno(n-)3: pimp, brothel-keeper; lena1 will be the female counterpart, cf. 175. 77 ob-secutam: cf. 65 [same idea wanted, but the exact locution is lost to us] 78 arte + con-tente: tightly + restrictively 85 dotalis, of a dowry [= 87 dos(t-)3] 89 usus4 est there is a need of [+ ablative] for [+ dative] 91 nugae1: trifles 95 porro: straight on, forward 97 circum-duco3: lead round the houses, con 98 ob-sum: get in the way 99 una opera: with the same trouble, it’s one and the same 100 rete3, iaculum2: net, net for casting 101 optio(n-)3: junior officer, assistant 102 com-miniscor 3: think up 114 patro1: “father,” bring to fruition, cf. in-petro1: obtain by pleading, in-petrio4: seek a good omen 117 nempe: of course 119 uersutus: full of

Plautin Language and Latin Vocabulary

107

turns, wily + quo ab = a quo + aegrius: with more difficulty 121 ma-uolo3 = magis-uolo = malo, prefer 124 scipio(n-)3: walking-stick (dreadful clang with scio4, I know) + con-tuor3 = con-tueor 2, cf. 403. 125 cesso1: dally, stop.

127–152 Loverboy’s lament Let action commence, with a shrill snatch of overpitched song. From someone’s poor son, bounced by Madame from next door. Impoverished, strungout, reproachful: adolescent. She’s on next. 127 sicine i.e. sic + ne [the original weak -ce is retained here, as often with hici-ne, e.g. 128 hocci-ne] + me eici from e-icio3 that I am thrown out [exclamatory indirect statement] 132 faxo: I’ll make sure [colloquial future of facio, used parenthetically] + capitis: [at the price] of your head 133 per-lecebrae1: enticement, vamp [nonce-word, see on 34: marking a “nonsense text,” mocking the limitations of regular, so conformist, diction] + per-nicies5: destruction [also spelled, or fused with, per-mities. This verse makes an instant high point of o.t.t. parody, possibly (false-)echoing a tragic outburst] 135 elauo1: wash out, get cleaned out [Plautin slang] 139 egestas(t-)3: need, lack 140 ede-pol = pol, strengthened, surely, see on 36. 142 pannus2: rag 145 man-sues(t-)3: hand-used, tame 147 era1: mistress, female owner [of slave]; erus2 will be the male equivalent, from 251. [150 in a stew: see on 267] 151 eccam = ec-ce-hanc-ce, here she is + in-lecebra1: enticement, vamp [three times in Plautin], cf. 133, 206 + ostium2: doorway.

153–248 Loverboy spars with Madame: a deal is cut The pair argue the toss for our benefit. She hears the complaints, silences them, steals the scene. Altercation (“like for like,” 172) makes way for her cameo lecture on marketplace economics in the sexwork industry. The dame’s “hard school of realism” tour de force features overblown metaphor, analogy, simile—the rhetorical kitchen sink. Not forgetting a personal demonstration showing how it’s done (222–6, in best panto-style). Cowed, the boy comes up with an indecent proposal: he’ll lease The Girl for a year, under contract. An exclusive deal, finance pending. Now we’re sussed—and we (unlike pater and his team) have met The Competition. 153 uerbum = uerborum [the original form] + “dosh” is britslang for “dough” [the best things in life are free: comic spiel specializes in abuse/ idolatry of lolly/loot] 156 clauus2: nail 158 capesso3: grasp 159 portitor3: cus-

108

Language, Metre, and Text

toms-officer 162 fore: will be [future infinitive of sum] 164 ducto1: hire [a call-girl] 172 hostimentum2: requital, cf. hostio4: requite, 377. 175 lena1: see 69 + qui = quo [obsolescent ablative form] 178 nequam = bad [doesn’t decline] 179 sucus2: juice + condio4: season 180 patinarius: in a pan + assus: baked 183 pedi-sequa1: woman attendant 184 catulus2: puppy 186 quaestus4: paying job 188 e-castor: By Castor, “(By) Our Lady” [expletive used by women] 200 oeno-polium2: wine shop [naturalized Greek, but extant only here—the Greek is found just once] 202 oculatus: fitted with eyes 203 co-actio(n-)3: collecting 209 columba1: dove + pullus2: chick 215 auceps(cip-)3 = auis-capio, bird-catcher 216 con-cinno1: fix up [219+220 “The line numbers were established by the major post-Ritschl Teubner editions of Götz, Löwe and Schöll. Before Ritschl himself the practice was to give numbers by Acts and Scenes. But G., L. and S. were very free with textual changes and supplements, so that editors who followed them often found it necessary to coalesce into one line what had been two” (Malcolm Willcock, per litteras, cf. id. [1997])]. 221 esca1: bait, tit-bit + illex3: enticing, decoy 222 com-pello1: address 223 uinnulus: coaxing [nonce-word] 224 papilla1: nipple 225 sauium2: kiss 228 re-meo1: come back 236 prorsus = pro-uersus, straight ahead, right though 238 syn-graphus2: contract [Greek] 240 una: at one and the same time, together [242 quod des, aedes redoubles the point it makes by the noise it makes] 246 ex-ob-secro1, beseech, is only found here. 247 ?ex-periri?: try [sense clear but the words won’t scan] 248 mutuus: on loan + faenus(or-)3: interest.

249–266 Slave One’s wake-up call The comic slave thinks he’s here to dream up another cunning plan—how to redeploy capital, as usual, only this time it belongs to matrona. He thinks he’s the play’s Brains, but he has another think coming. 249 ex-pergiscier = -i3, wake up [the archaic passive infinitive in -ier makes a handy verse-end for trochaic septenarii (doubling as sense-unit end), cf. 325, 343, 895, 916, 932]. 251 dis-cesti = dis-cedisti [such “consonantal” forms, from -sti, not -isti, are frequent] + erus2: see 147. [251 “yonks,” “long ago,” is britslang, “origin unknown” of coarse] 254 abs = a(b) 256 faxim: the old optative of facio, “would do” [a colloquialism] 258 inter-uerto3: cut out, swindle + celox(c-)3: yacht 259 in-petritum: see on 114 + quouis: in any direction 260 picus2 + cornix(c-)3 + coruus2 + parra1: woodpecker + crow + raven + barnowl 262 ulmus2: elm-tree [slaves hear only the wood to “birch” them] 264 in

Plautin Language and Latin Vocabulary

109

mundo: in store + uirga1: rod [for beating slave] 266 ob-scaeuo1: be a [bad] omen for [+ dative]: only found here and Stichus 460.

267–380 Slave Two’s . . . brainwave This time around, Brains must share (split and double) his role—with his underling: such luck! The Slave in a ’Urry, whose breath-and-mindlessness should mark him a mere messenger, has already arranged for the loot to be delivered to their door. Casts himself to star as The Impostor, playing the part of “Slave in a Stew.” All on automatic pilot, too—running on instinct. [267 “in a stew” will be my daft version of “in a temper,” all the rage (see 404–6). His breakneck ’Astiness will talk in nonstop spate not a mo’ to waste aspiratin’ no time for punctuatin’] 268 Libentia1: [pretend goddess] Pleasure 270 scortor1: go whoring, cf. scortum2: tart, 814. 271 partio4: share out 272 con-pilo1: steal, rob 273 uae: alas [for], woe [to = + dative] 275 ocior: quicker 276 plaga1: blow 277 thesaurus2: treasure [naturalized Greek] 279 quadrigae1: four-horsed chariot + ind-apisco/or3: gain, overtake 280 inimicum: genitive plural, cf. 153. 282 opimitas(t-)3: prosperity [Plautin; slang] + ex-fertissimus (ex-farcio3/4) stuffed fullest 284 ob-noxius: beholden to 287 oppido: utterly 289 ex-templo: at once + sudo1: sweat 290 con-cesso1: stop, rest [Plautin; cf. 125] 292 con-primo3: squeeze, “jump” [for sex] 295 e-lecto1: lure out 297 flagrum2: whip + carcer3: prison 300 ex-pendo3: weigh up [301, 303 “cwt” is short for uncool, unpoetic, non-metric, “hundred-weight”] 304 trabs(b-)3: beam 306 lego1: leave in a will 307 uerbi-uelitatio(n)3: wordskirmishing [nonce joke-word] 311 carni-fex(fic-)3: executioner [312 shtick: Yiddish woid for U.S. “gimmick” 313 heist: U.S. for UK “job”] 315 scapula1: shoulder-blade + gestio4: itch 316 hariolor1: soothsay + in mundo: see on 264. [317 “Big Bad” will be rend(er)ing “corporal violence on the body” whenever a slave is concerned; a key euphemism which functions as a key dysphemism] 319 tergum2 (neuter): back, hide [the slave’s bodily self]: the manuscripts read familiare, but the ancient lexicographer Nonius Marcellus noted familiarem, which we can see as a grammar-busting twist that substitutes the slave’s own hide for anything or anyone else that might be available in the household (= familiaris + noun or familiaris as noun) 324 potior4: get possession of 325 e-dis-sero3: expound in full 327 anhelitus4: panting 332 [“shtoom” is more yiddish, “mum’s the word,” a noise that marks no noise, and (so) mocks mere orthography] beo1: bless, make happy 334+335: see on 219+220. 340 claudus: lame [lame puns on “clapped

110

Language, Metre, and Text

out,” worn-out britslang for “worn-out” (British machinery, Britons and Britain, etc.) will be over-done in this translation, to obvious good effect: cf. 670, 863] + sub-tero3: wear down (from) underneath + femen(in-)3 = femur, thigh, haunch + ungula1: hoof 341 sub-uecto1: carry, haul, up country 343 tonstrina1: barber’s shop, cf. tonsor3: barber + per-contor1: prod thoroughly [344 Armée, for Strato = Greek “army-man”] 347 ob = on account of [+ accusative] 355 non . . . quin = not . . . so not, not without . . . -ing [+ subjunctive] 356 prae-sto: ready on the spot, available 357 bal(i)neae1: baths [naturalized Greek] 359 inter-uerto: see on 259. 360 ex-ascio1: hack out, bash out [chop-chop is mock-Chinese pidgin English = p. d. q., or pretty/ purty damn/darn quick] 362 sorsum = se-uersum, separately, apart 363 inter-minor1: threaten, block with threats 366 pro-miscam: indiscriminately 370 ob-lecto1: entertain, beguil 371 mala1: jaw, cheek 375 patitor(-ior 3): suffer [deponent-passive imperative singular] + re-ferio4: strike back 377 hostio4: see on 172. [380 “windy” i.e. “cowardly” (on the run, as desperate slave from owner)]

381–406 The Courier arrives The play’s other messenger is here with the money, for matrona. Will he trust it to father’s slaves? 382 pulto1: bang, knock 384 ohe: whoa 386 con-seruus2: fellow-slave 388 cardo(in-)3: hinge 390 moror1: have as my way, am trained 391 calcitro(n-)3: kicker 394 mage = magis, more + tonsor: see on 343. 397 qui pro = pro qui, for which 398 mercatu = at market 400 macilentus: lean + rufulus: reddish + uentriosus: pot-bellied 401 con-modus: full-size 403 con-tuor: see on 124 + quasso1: shake vigorously 404 uapulo1: be beaten [the ultimate slave-owner’s verbal cruelty] 405 Aeacidinus = of Aeacus’ grandson [Achilles] + minae1: threat.

407–503 The con’s too convincing: Saurea’s world Impersonating matrona’s hateful steward to prise the cash from the courier, the slaves over-egg their play-within-a-play travesty. He will, however, trust only pater—and off they go. 409 ne: yes, indeed + crus(r-)3: shin, leg + decore: fittingly [only here in Plautin] [410 “O.T.T.” is over the top slang for “too much”] 412 [see on 317]

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111

oc-cessisti from ob-cedo3, confront 416 uerbero(n-)3: whipping-boy 418 stimulus2: whip 420 qui = quo, with which + ob-callesco3: become hardened, callous 421 fur3: thief 422 og-gannio4: bark at 423 stomachus2: bad temper + queo4: be able + sub-pedito1: supply, provide for [= dative] 424 stercus(or-)3: dung 425 de-icio3: throw down 426 bulla1: knob, stud 427 fustis(t-)3: cudgel, big stick 428 dedo3: devote 429 faenus: see on 248. 430 hara1: sty 433 uicarius2: deputy 438 trapezita1: banker [Greek naturalized] 439 sic do1: colloquial = “that’s the way for me” 440 sat ago3: satisfy, bustle 441 di-midium2: half 443 loco1: contract for 444 scyphus2: goblet [naturalized Greek] 445 com-modo1: be obliging, give the use of something 448 tinnio4: make a high-pitched clang 449 quam dudum: how long ago 450 uitio uerto3: reckon as a fault [“turn to/for a flaw”] 459 credo3: trust + dative [of person] + genitive [partitive, of thing: “some of . . .”] 460 duim: let me give [optative of do, frequent in Plautin] + a(d)-sto1: stand beside/aside, or stand ready, stand steady [slaves knew about this] 461 formido1: dread 464 peregrinus2: foreigner + sane: for sure 467 per-duim: see on 460. 467 sub-plic-assim: I’ll have knelt and begged [an optative form with the force of a future perfect; cf. 503] [471 see on 317] 472 “s.f.a.” is a charmer of a euphemistic acronym, = (say) “sweet Fanny Adams,” aka “nothing at all” (think “sweet fuck all”)] 475 percieo2/4: shake thoroughly 476 scelestus: wicked/wretched 481 sub-plicium2: begging for mercy, punishment, death-penalty 484+485: see on 219+220 furci-fer 2: bearing the “fork” [torture worse than wearing portable stocks] 491 prae-fiscini: averting the evil eye (fascinum), not putting the mockers on anything 493 fortassis = fortasse, perhaps 496 secunda facio: act favourably [“do favourable things”] + capitulum2: dear wee head, or person 498 frugi (= bonae frugi, e.g. 602) cropping well, worthy, good + peculium2: slave’s nest-egg of savings.

504–544 The Sex Slave holds out on Momma Time to meet The Girl Next Door. What’s it like being Love for Sale? She has a mind of her own, but that’s about all we can be sure of. 504 ne-queo4: am unable (cf. 423) + inter-dico3: forbid 505 ex-pers: see on 45. 506 moratam: see on 390. [510 “slate” is C19–21 Brit. for “dump on”] 511 dicaculus: talkative, glib [512 i.e. “circ[umstance]s”] 516 de die: in the course of the day 518 portisculum2: hammer for beating stroke for rowers 519 re-posiui = re-posui from re-pono3: rest + casteria1: deck for rowers’ kip?

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Language, Metre, and Text

[found only here] 520 con-sisto3: come to a stop 523 con-tui: see on 124. 525 rere from reor2: you think 526 ex-petesso3: seek vigorously 533 largus lacrimarum: generous with tears 536 cuius: belonging to whom, whose [adjectival form] 538 e(x) re: in your interests 539+540: see on 219+220 oui-pilio(n-)3: shepherd 541 peculiaris3: belonging to your stash, your own [cf. on 498] + solor1: console.

545–590 We’re in the money . . . and We’re so pretty, o so pretty . . . One song of praise deserves another (567, 576). The slaves congratulate each other in pulling off the crime de la crime in their long and distinguished careers of villainy. We missed it, but father went along with the imposture, and . . . signed for the cash. 546 syco-phantia1: trickery [Greek naturalized in Plautin] 547 scapula: see on 315 + ulmus: see on 262. 548 lam(m)ina1 + com-pes(d-)3 plate of metal [red-hot for torturing slaves] + shackles for the feet 549+550: see on 219+220 neruus2 + numella1 + pedica1 + boia1: string, rope + another kind of portable stocks worn around a slave’s neck + more (foot-)shackles + yet another kind of portable stocks, or collar [This is the worst torturer’s catalogue in Latin as well as in Plautin.] 551 in-ductor3: painter 553 cicatrix(c-)3: scar 555 potiti: see on 324 [+ genitive] 556 con-lega1: fellow magistrate [in Plautin only here and the matching 576]; -aï: original ending of the genitive singular [here, if authentic, parody of high style?] 563 per-fodio3: dig through 565 artutus: [well-]limbed [this would be a nonce-word: it is a correction, by Fleckeisen, of astutos] + uirgator3: see on 264. 570 ad-molior 4: put energy into, shove onto 574 duritia1: hardness [576 the words collegam collaudaui collude in collapsing all “praise” into the 2-way street of old “pals” (“obl(ig)ation”)] 577 ut . . . decuit: i.e. decet + [it seems] accusatives of person and ablative of thing [i.e. “How it became both you and me, in the highest degree, and was worthy of our character”?] 579 hariolor: see on 326. 580 lepidus: charming, witty 582 contini = continui from con-teneo2, hold in 584 memoriter: in a non-forgetting way 585 mane-dum: “wait, do” + intus: inside, from inside [in Plautin] 587 lacinia1: hem 588 attatae: oh wow [naturalized Greek] 589 pertica1: pole 590 crumina1: pouch [worn round neck; not a big deal].

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591–745 Lovers’ last gasp lament and Slaves riding high: Loverboy pays his dues We and the slaves watch Romeo and Juliet bid a cruel world and each other goodbye for ever (and farewell for ever). It’s curtains for both. But dry your eyes, the slaves will now make them sit up and beg for the money. In fact, he must crawl and scrape and watch her fake playing hot and horny. First Slave’s turn, second Second’s. This is where the comedy delivers—never mind the plot. It’s a show-stopper of “improvisational” transgression, leapfrogging itself from blackmail over degradation to blasphemy. Yet the slaves’ redoubled toying with The Kids for kicks acts out, ahead of pater’s cameo, the dynamics of their master’s strike for (self-) gratification. The price for a year’s bliss (= hire) is one helluva night on the tiles for pa . . . 591 egeo2: lack, need [+ genitive] 594 suprema [i.e. hora]: last hour of the day [at an assembly, etc.] 595 acerbus: unripe, premature 597 nox: by night [archaic, perhaps a legal tinge? Only here in Plautin, and a correction, by Lipsius, at that] 599 interdius: by day [rarer form than interdiu] 600 gerrae: “pah, rubbish!” [mostly Plautin] 601 ad-paro1: prepare 606 Orcus2: [Lord of] Hell 614 mel(ll-)3: honey 615 ec-fero3: carry out [for burial] 619 fumus2: smoke 620 quidum: how so? 624 cadus2: flagon 627 cinaedus2 + calamistratus2: pathic with permed hair [naturalized + bastardized Greek slang] 628 cibus2: food 634 daturus dixit: “he said he was going to give” [(Graecizing?) nominative and infinitive construction] 635 quoquam: in any direction 636 polleo2: have power 643 a-spernor1: scorn, reject 647 ambi-plexor1: embrace vigorously 655 erilis3: of a master 656 may be neither Latin nor Plautin: I take interior [Bothe’s conjecture, for interioris] with salus, and both genitives with imperator 662 presso1: weigh down [rare] 663 pro-cliuis3: sloping down 666 passerculus2 + gallina1 + coturnix(c-)3: sparrrow-let + hen + quail 667 agnellus2 + haedillus2 + uitellus2: lambkin + kidlet + calfling [all found only here] 668 labellum2: lip 670 atqui: and yet + genu4: knee + frico1: rub 682 uicissim: in turn 685 con-ticinnum2: quietening of night, nightfall, predawn [rare] 686 tantis-per: for the meantime 693 aneticula1 + columba1 + catellus2: duckling + see 209 + little 184. 694 hirundo(in-)3 + monedula1: swallow + jackdaw + putillus: tiny wee, teeny weeny 696 torquis3: twisted chain-necklace 698 nequiquam: no way, in vain 699 ueho3: carry, allow to be ridden 702 sub-domo1: “tame underneath” [nonce-word] 706 hordeum2: barley + tolutim: at a gallop + badizo1: walk [Greek word: only here in Latin] 708 calcar3: spur + quadri-pedum2: trot + cliuus2: slope 709 postid-ea

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= postea, afterwards + pistor 3: miller 716 diuum = diuorum + Ob-sequens3: see on 65, 77. [718 “slate”: see on 519] 733 tempori (or temperi): locative of tempus, used adverbially, “in good time” 737 meritissimum: comic Plautin out-doing of meritum2, “one good deed that deserves another” [so, nonce more, a nonce-word] 742 angi-portum2: blind alley 742 clam: secretly 743 re-scisco3: get to find out (and know).

746–809 Pal writes a contract for rival Loverboy Back with credit card and contract, the rival shows up just too late. He and his stooge have written a script to beat all. Here’s how to programme a customized-executive reserved-exclusive living doll. Here’s how to stop a play in its tracks. Groan loud. Do. 748 prorsus: see on 236. 750 trans-lege3: read through [read through all Latin, and find the word only here] 752 do1 dono: give as a gift (the “dative”) 761 peregre: from abroad 763 ceratus: waxed 763–4 inutilis | pictura “nogood picture,” i.e. pornographic tableau that doesn’t pull it off (“dud daub”) 764 quadri-duum3: a four-day period 765 ab-alieno3: transfer to another’s ownership 766 com-buro3: burn up 770 caecus: blind 771 poclum2 = poculum, goblet + potito1: booze vigorously 772 pro-pino3: toast with a drink 778 anulus2: ring 779 talus2: ankle-bone, used for dice 784 nuto1 + nicto1 + ad-nuo3: nod vigorously + blink, wink + nod yes 787 cubiculum2: bedroom 790 captio(n-)3: trick 791 quid ni?: why not? 792 per-plexabilis3: enigmatic [Plautin: nonce-word] 794 tussio4: cough 795 pro-sero3: stick forward 796 grauedo(in-)3: head-cold, snot 797 abs-tergeo2: wipe off 798 palam: openly 800 uerbo = with a word (ablative) 801 multa1: fine 802 scitus: clever 803 sertum2: garland 807 spurcus: filthy 808 nugae: see on 91 + mortualia3: death-rites, keening [rare].

810–827 Loverboy’s Pal will snitch to Mother on his new rival: Father Plot and sub-plot collide. Will everyone finally get even? First things first. 811 in-dico3: inform against 814 scortum: see on 270. 815 sub-pilo1: steal secretly 817 prope-diem: soon 818 ec-fligo3: destroy + sub-pedito: see 423. 822 per-cieo3/4: see 475. 823 at pol qui or at . . . qui or pol qui: yes-indeedsure [strong asseveration] 824 lis (= lit-)3: dispute + con-cieo3/4: stir up 826 poto1: booze [cf. 771].

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828–850 Dad’s party swings Pater has his moment. Gropes the Girl, makes the Boy grin and bear it. Digs himself a deep, deep hole. We know. 827 de-cumbo3: recline [to dine] 830 ac-cubo1: lie next to 833 uerecundus: respectful 839+840: see on 219+220 dixis: another optative form, cf. 256. 847 per-petere: suffer [deponent-passive imperative] 849+850: see on 219+220.

851–941 Mum fetches him home All hell breaks loose. Caught bang to rights, pa is ceremonially hounded from the love-nest. The play’s holiday party debouches in carnival exorcism of Geriatric Lechery. Ugh. Yukkh. Join in—sing the song—all the way home. Boo! Hiss! 854 accreduas = ad-credas, from accredo3: believe [cf. on 460] 856 ratus: from reor 2, having thought [past participle] 859 madidus: soaked + osor 3: hater [Plautin] 861 ratus: see 856. 863 de-crepitus: having lost voice, clapped-out 864 coti-die: every day 867 corruptela1: corruption + lustrum2: bog, morass, hole, dive 869 me-castor: “By Our Lady” [strengthened ecastor: see on 188] 873 sterto3: snore 874 fundus2: farm 881 clam-culum: a bit secretly, see on 742. 885 de-licium2: pet + palla1: robe 886 annuus: i.e. lasting through the [whole] year 887 ganeum2: eating-place, dive 888 sub-pilo: see on 815. 889 in-sons(t-)3: not-guilty 891 a(b) summo . . . ab infimo: from the highest [couch, place, at table] . . . from the lowest 892 capulus2: receptacle, esp. coffin 893 anima1: breath 894 foeteo2: stink + nautea1: bilge-water [naturalized Greek] 902 faenerato: at interest [cf. 248] + fundito1: pour vigorously 903 ulciscor3: take revenge on + potissimum: most of all 906 iactus4: throw + cantharus2: tankard [Greek] + mulsum2: honeyed wine, mead 907 [ars] fullonia: art of fulling, cleaning clothes [909 see on 317.] 910 pollinctor 3: undertaker + ad-cerso3: summon 912 glisco3: grow 915 poste = post [919 “wasted” in the [gunlaw] slang sense “destroyed,” cf. 232, 244 for play with perdo/pereo] 920 re-ceptio(n-)3: act of receiving [Plautin: only here in this use] 921 e-nico1: kill dead 922 immo: no, not at all + nequissimus: worst [superlative of nequam, see 178] 923 cuculus2: cuckoo 925 paululum: a little bit/way 929 murra1 + oleo2: myrrh + smell of [+ accusative] 934 canus: grey-haired 935 coquo3: cook.

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942–947 Some curtain call: your applautus is appreciated Sympathy for the devil? Root for your anti-hero. Before it’s too late. You know you want to. 942 uolup: pleasurably [uolup facio: enjoy] 943 secus: in an other way, differently.

Outline of the Metres of Asinaria Gratwick (1993) 40–63, 251–60, and MacCary and Willcock (1976) 211–32, are most help for understanding, scanning, and reading Plautine verse: both are model presentations, attempting to teach from first principles to expertise in a few short pages. Not many readers will read enough plays to make doing the verse justice a high priority, but through the notation added to the text any newcomer can join in right away, and the following short profile will give you a fair idea of how the rhythm of the play swings and thumps along. The short solo “song” in Asinaria is quite clearly marked out as a run of word-phrases composed to repeat and vary rhythmic patterns (= 2 below; on Plautine music and dramatic structure: Moore [1998], pp. 183, 185). The rest of the script, however, is “sing-song/talk,” written in Plautus’ favourite (most common) regular metres (= 1A and 1B below). The lines feel extremely “free” (like some talking blues). They play off the drive of spoken intonation against the recurrence of chanted half-line and whole-line units; each line is “called home” by a regular verse-end cadence. In iambic septenarii the words’ own ordinary accentuation reinforces the verse cadence; in the other metres, there is often a clash between the two patterns. Across the length of the line, the sub-unit, or metron, of each verse has no underlying metronomic pulse. Thus a senarius can last anywhere between a light run of alternating “short” and “long” syllables (= 18 time-units, where a long lasts twice as long as a short) and a heavy run of continuous long syllables (= 23 timeunits; see Gratwick and Lightley [1982] on heavily and lightly dramatic syllables). Most senarii are of 22 units, with one short syllable at either the first or the second “c” (a notation to be explained next): but enough lines have 21 or 23 units to downplay this norm, and, while 19 (and esp. 18) unit lines are far between, the few 20-unit verses are a significant

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minority. The final metron of every verse ends with a “short” syllable before a final “long” (so no senarius can ever last for 24 time units). The longer lines work correspondingly further away from internal or overall isochrony. [NB In the text, the usual mid-verse word-break found in most lines is marked by a g a p.]

1. Iambic-trochaic Verse NB In each metron, “B” and “D” are always long; “a” and “c” are those tending to be long or short (“a” mostly long; “c” rather more longs than shorts). Any element may be either a long syllable or two short syllables except at line-end: here the final two syllables are always short followed by long, except in iambic septenarii, where the final two syllables are always long followed by long. Within these parameters, the verse abides by a complex of norms for relating syllable patterns to spoken accentuation; these norms all have their exceptions, and never explain all the lines, or all the words. Editing Plautus is forever a test of nerve in tolerating or eliminating transmitted anomalies and violations, in metre as in all other aspects. As with any formal poetry, reading Plautus is always an ongoing negotiation between the pull of verse and the impetus of word accentuation.

1A. Short Spoken Verse: Iambic Senarius 1–126, 746–829: senarius (usually with a word-break between linked “halflines”). The final “c” is always a “short” syllable. aBcDa BcDaBcD or aBcDaBc DaBcD

1B. Longer Recitative Verse Here, any element may be resolved into two short syllables except at midverse and verse-end: cadences with “cD” have the penultimate syllable

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short; cadences in “BC” and “Da” have the penultimate syllable long; the final syllable of every verse counts as long. Just three varieties. All three long enough to feel close to a double line— “two-for-the-price-of-one.” This is why Plautin theatre is all gabble and patter. 830–50: iambic octonarius (varying between separate or linked halflines) aBcDaBcD aBcDaBcD or aBcDaBcDa BcDaBcD 381–503, 545–745: iambic septenarius (as if an octonarius minus its last syllable) aBcDaBcD aBcDaBC 138–380, 504–44, 851–947: trochaic septenarius (as if a “cretic,” or “longshort-long” pattern, is followed by an iambic senarius) BcDaBcDa BcDaBcD

2. Sung and Scored Lyric Verse 127–32, 134–7: cretic tetrameter, i.e., a fourfold series of “long-short-long” patterns. The following are the main patterns, in any combination: ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘˘˘ ˘˘˘ˉ ˉˉˉ

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ˘˘ ˘˘˘ˉ ˉˉˉ

| | | |

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘˘˘ ˘˘˘ˉ ˉˉˉ

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ˘˘ ˘˘˘ˉ ˉˉˉ

Thus, for Asinaria: 127, 128, 130, 134 129 131

ˉ˘ˉ ˘˘˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ

ˉ˘ˉ ˘˘˘ˉ ˉ˘˘˘

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ

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132 135, 137 136

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ ˉˉˉ

˘˘ ˘ ˉ ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ

ˉ˘ˉ ˉˉˉ ˉ˘ˉ

ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ ˉ˘ˉ

133: choriambic tetrameter (ˉ ˘˘ ˉ with an “ionic” as the third element: ˘˘ ˉ ˉ) ˉ ˘˘ ˉ

ˉ ˘˘ ˉ

˘˘ ˉ ˉ

ˉ ˘˘ ˉ

Differences That Make a Difference Differences from the Oxford Classical Text (= Lindsay [1904], Volume 1) 6 mihi [mi] 25–26 ita me obstinate aggressus es ut non audeam | profecto percontanti quin promam omnia. deleted [bracketed by Lindsay: dreadful doublet of 23–4] 32–33 DEM. quid istuc est? aut ubi istuc est terrarum loci? | LIB. ubi flent nequam homines qui polentam pinsitant. deleted [ruins 34–9] 65 obsequentiam [obsequellam: attested for Plautus, but metrically impossible here; Gratwick (2001) argues for the (unattested) word obsequelia with liberius at 64] 77 obsecutam [obsecutum] 85 uxor tua suum [Mueller, see Lindsay p. xiv: huc uxor tua] 108 i bene, ambula [ fietne? :: ambula Fleckeisen] 133 pernicies [permities] 146 nil . . . nil [nihil . . . nihil] 201 disciplina [discipulina] 205 longe aliam, inquam, [linguam] praebes nunc atque olim cum dabam [unmetrical doublet of 204, perhaps an attempt to ease the metre] 217 assuescunt [Reiz: [aues] adsuescunt] 219 itidem [itidem hic] 224 id est [Camerarius: est] 230 tune [tene Camerarius] 235 uti [Camerarius: | ut] 247 ?experiri? [experi Skutsch] 252 igitur inueniendo argento ut fingeres fallaciam deleted [intolerable doublet of 250] 263 hoc auspicioque [eiius pici Goetz and Loewe] 266 quod [quom] 306 istuc [Brix: hoc] 308 audacter licet [audacter :: licet] 324 potitur bonum [Valla Pius: patitur bonum] 358 dic [dice Ritschl] 360 exasciato [exasceato] 364 essent uiginti argenti minae [a. e. u. m. Fleckeisen] 366 promiscam [Palmier: promissam] 395 conueni. sed [Ussing: quom uenisset] [482 metrically incredible] 484 nosmet [erum nosmet] 492 alter est Athenis [Bentley: Athenis alter est] 505 metrically dubious: matris expers imperiis [Brandt: e. m. imperio] 509 matri [Bentley: matris] 547 ulmorum [ulnorum MSS of Nonius p. 400 Lindsay] [549 “whips” doesn’t belong with the rest of the torture kit?] [552 metrically dubious, del. Bothe] [556 metrically dubious line] 613 certum [Lachmann: 121

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mihi certum] 694 monedulam [monerulam] [714 metrically impossible] 733 ted [te] 758 amicae suae [Gulielmius: amicai eum] 785 post si [postid Lindsay] 826 narra. PAR. [Leo: PAR. iam iam] 855 esse me mendacem [Seyffert: me esse mendacem] 897 reuenias [Ritschl: uenias]

Differences from the Sarsina/Urbino Text (= Danese [2004]) 6 mihi [mi] 15 ut alias [Leo: item ut] 65 obsequentiam [obsequellam] 77 obsecutam [obsecutum] 85 uxor tua suum [| uxor tua |] 105 quid uis [Vahlen: quid tum Niemeyer] 133 pernicies [permities]146 nil . . . nil [nihil . . . nihil] 176 mihi [mi] 193 mihi [mi] 201 disciplina [discipulina] 205 longe aliam, inquam, [iniqua] praebes nunc atque olim cum dabam [unmetrical doublet of 204, perhaps an attempt to ease the metre] 213–4 neque . . . neque . . . neque [nec . . . nec . . . nec] 217 assuescunt [Reitz: aues adsuescunt] 219 itidem [itidem hic] 224 id est ab re [Camerarius: est ab re |] 230 tune [tene, Camerarius] 235 uti [Camerarius: ut] 247 ?experiri? [experi Skutsch] 255 te recipis [recipe te Scaliger] 263 hoc auspicioque [Goetz and Loewe: eiius pici] 266 quod [quom Nonius p. 212 Lindsay] 275 hercle liber opera [Reiz: hercle | opera liber] 300 ted expendi [te | expendi] 306 istuc [Brix: hoc] 308 audacter licet [audacter :: licet] 324 potitur bonum [Valla Pius: patitur bonum] 352 med esse [me | esse] 358 dic [dice Ritschl] 360 exasciato [exasceato] 363 mihi [mi] 387 nostris [Gulielmus: nostris [aedibus]] 395 conueni. sed [Ussing: quom uenisset] 418 mihi [mi] 453 mihi [mi] 496 mihi [mi] 501 mihi [mi] 505 matris expers imperiis [Brandt: e. m. imperio] 507 mihi [mi] 509 matri [Bentley: matris] 510 neque . . . neque [nec . . . nec] 547 ulmorum [ulnorum MSS of Nonius] 556 collegai [Seyffert: collegae] 557 ad [Merula: est ad] 560 tuo [Guyet: tuo [nunc]] 581 med esse [me | esse] 613 certum [Lachmann: mihi certum] 614 tu [Fleckeisen: [mihi] tu] 633 med ad [me | ad] 656 interior [Bothe: interioris] 676 mihi [mi] 687 ted an [te | an] 693 med aneticulam [me | aneticulam] 694 monedulam [monerulam] 698 in me tam indignum tantum [Bothe: tam indignum dictum | in me] 700 hinc argentum [Lindsay: argentum |] 712 mihi [mi] 733 ted [te] 758 amicae suae [Gulielmius: amicai eum] 785 post si [postid Lindsay] 826 narra. PAR. [Leo: PAR. iam] 841 mihi [mi] 846 mihi [mi] 855 esse me mendacem [Seyffert: me esse mendacem] 873 ille operi [Lindsay: ille opere] 905 mihi [mi] 908 Artemona [Havet: gap marked] 940 i in [i | in]

Commentary and Analysis

1

Killing the Plot 16–126 Somewhere in theatre Greece . . . Father enlists Slave One to swindle Mother and fund Loverboy Son Finessing the plot, in line with the prologue, paterfamilias sweeps away the preliminaries (52–3): I already know it: that son of mine. Love. Sex. With that whore from next door. . . .

Son ’fessed up—cashflow probs (74–5). A brace of slaves are assisting son; now pater wants to join the team, and be as good a mate as his own father once was, in his day. Cash to hand son to hand hooker? In a word (= breuest. 88–91, 96): Now to get what I want from you in a few words. my son needs twenty minae cash, immediate. See it’s there ready right away. Where on earth from? You swindle me. . . . . . . . . . . Any way you can: me. Or wife. Or slave Lizard.

For this play brings you the novelty neurosis of “Father who would befriend Son” (50). He is matched with another first: the archetypal Cunning Slave (255, ingenium uetus) who won’t cheat Master, as he will put it himself (256–7, caue tu idem faxis alii quod serui solent), with wordplay between serua and serui to point up the dissonance: “Serfguard master”?—What could induce a “servant” to “preserve” a master?1 This aromatic agent, Libanus (p. 143), is going to be shoved out of his limelight, when his predatory 125

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mate gets to play Asinaria’s angry hombre, in character as mock-sadistic steward (pp. 147–8, 152–3).2 But the real twist will be that Mater is going to find that she has stepped into the vacant shoes of comedy’s usual tightass, Father (62–83; esp. 78–9):3 . . . Mother keeps tight and taut rein on him, the way fathers habitually do. . . .

This because Mother rules the family.4 The money is mummy’s; she brought it with her as a bride. She has an agent of her own, too, slave “Lizard,” so being a woman does not cripple her reign (85–7: dotalem seruom; argentum; dote imperium). Nobody’s noticed this for twenty years or thereabouts— all so that we can be there, Today, when the worm turns, and pater fights back. For, he says, his own . . . son. Through, he arranges, his slaves. One and Two, as I shall call them, to make a point about anti-heroics. “Almost everything about Roman dowry is ambivalent.”5 Not least for registering where Asinaria is coming from, it is best to regard the whole subject as far too touchy for this bone of contention to be explicable. In her comic realization as pantomime shrew,6 The Wife with a Dowry was a fantasy for Athens who has become a spectre for Rome.7 “Cashing out” the trouble she poses to patriarchal command (imperium), to family and gender structures, is exactly where this comedy points us. So, here we are, nailing a plot, in the soap “Athens” of Roman theatre. In with my Anglo-American slang I shall be using a touch of irritant franglais to keep Plautus’ nicely annoying “Graecolatin” in view—grit for the pearl, I’d like to think. For this is where Roman scriptwriters take Athenian originals and do them to death. Just for fun, they pin more or less suitable new names on the players, still Greek, but now stuck with the whole range of connotations of “Greek” in Latin. In “Lizard’’s case, the name Saurea is an eyesorea that will be trailed before us all over the script (85, 96, 264, 347, 353, 359, 368, 372, 383, 399, 417, 431, 464; and in the recap at 584). Until it dawns on us that we are not going to . . . have the pleasure . . . of meeting . . . the real thing. So “Lizard” is his (nowhere quite paralleled) name. In Greek slang (no surprises here) tyrannosaurous Sauvra could spell “Willy” (too), so more than fit to serve his mistress,8 and that could be the innuendo gag at 374, where Leonida “swaps names.” On the other hand, the ill-omened name-change in question there is from Lionel “Leonida” (as 368 puts it) and into “Lizard,” so it (also) fits to have Libanus threaten

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to “de-Lion-ize” his comrade—if he so much as lays a real finger on him in pretend ferocity (literally nominal but no less painful for that). In no time at all, Libanus will be precisely misdescribing Saurea to the courier, because accurately describing leonine Leonida, as “Lean-jawed, rather tawnyish, etc. etc.” (400–1: pp. 147–8). So “Little Leo” makes a good name for this Slave in a ’Urry (seruus currens: 265, 740). His unslavelike name is otherwise used at 58, 101, 566, and 665 (where he collects a row of animal names: 667). [NB For Libanus: p. 197; Demaenetus: p. 213; Philaenium, 53: pp. 137–8 (and see Index, s.v. Asinaria: names, mentioned; and: names, of the characters).9] The scene for this comedy, will, as usual, be a street-front in this “Wallywood” Athens (pp. 139, 231 n.13). Here we face two front doors, fitted out with stage porches to help involved eavesdropping scenes to work (pp. 207–10). One belongs to a stripped-down nuclear family: a paterfamilias, both senior and ageing, and married to a dowry, which handed his wife control of the family finances. Their son has hooked up with a working girl who costs. She is under the control of her mother (or “mother,” maybe),10 and they live “next door” to our Family du jour. Madam will tell us that in this self-satirising world “we purchase on Greek credit” (199).11 Lying for all he is worth, the ruffian slave posing as the ferocious slave in charge of their household will brag that “There’s no one else in today’s Athens that they reckon gets so much credit, as me, right and proper” (492: cf. p. 140). And the play’s bore we shall love to deplore can’t imagine how his contractual effort to programme cheating out of the hustler is invalidated by being drawn up in Latin, when he sets about limiting her to “pure Attic diction—and no word of aporia: none” (792–3: cf. pp. 171–2). Yes, thanks to Greek culture, Romans can laugh at Greek culture. In Plautus’ lifetime, they were taking on the Mediterranean cosmos of the successors of Alexander the Great, and cleaning up. Fast (world supremacy in less than a lifetime).12 Theatre was one case of the spoils of empire going down a treat in the backyard of the new “barbarian” superpower: if backward Romans were prepared to see and hear themselves as “unGreek [so non-players in civilisation]” (11, barbare), they also preferred to lump all their new provincials together, forever, under the nickname of the aptly undistinguished Graikoiv of Thessaly, rarely rated as Hellenes by Hellas! Knock knock, “Who needs Greek?” :: “Roman pantomime does.”

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One smart watchword of “theory” patter tells us that “comedy” depends on the irruption of otherness, and Graeco-Roman culture needed at all costs to other any eruption of their slave populations. Empire rocked Rome, destabilized by importation of Greek ways along with Greek plunder. Cultural shock, as well as exhilaration, accompanied both the re-vamping of upgraded housing (marble columns to frame polished studding at the front door: 425–6) and the re-structuring of expanded staffing (a specialized domestic steward, atriensis, would provide an interface between master and his dealings with the outside world, would take over bursarial duties, and supervise the domestic slaves—seeing to it that “shit gets fetched away from the front doorstep”: 424). Even basic food and drink became . . . service industries (pp. 149–51). The new cosmopolis crawled with “Greek” human chattels, and their attendant phobias. Plautus puts them on show in his show (p. 152). Plautus makes the slaves his powerhouse, our fantasy pledge of “wit, fun— a gas” (13–14). They are jokes as well as jokesters, and, they let us all know, owners are jokes too—hopeless when (we/they) try to play jokesters, and helpless when (we/they) lose (our/their) sense of hum . . . anity. Of course today’s pair of agents aren’t going to need their Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card. Ultimately, Master promises, he will bail them out of trouble (106–7). But, no he won’t. Not just like that. If mater is in loco patris (79), she will be judge and jury of that.13 So we watch and wait, while the slaves put on their show. To see how far Father means to befriend son, how far to hit back at wife (pp. 153–4). He can explore the underside of resigning power in his household, exploit for all it is worth resignation to powerlessness; he can pick himself to play on his underlings’ team—son and slave agents, plus player-manager. But master will still carry the can for the lot of them: all will be on his head. His favourite surrogate agrees to fill his shoes (patro, 114), but he has promised. And the reckoning must come when The One Who Wears the Trousers finds out. Disequilibrium between pater and mater materializes in terms of clout when command of cash kicks in. What’s new? But when husband lashes out at wife, and she has power, that isn’t right, so she must pay with the play. All’s well because all ends . . . badly for her. We know; she must find out. When master joins his slaves to plot against mistress, conjugality is undermined. Pitting his agents against hers only shields the marriage just

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so far. At the death, they must face each other: he has messed up; she gates and punishes her jackass-husband-slave. But this hurts her, too. The theatre knew it from the start. Disempowered males are just castrated mules. Clap if you agree (p. 214). There is room for (a) play within these dynamics, but that’s the logic of the plot. What, then, will be our treat in watching how it all works out? Wife has been set above her station, so her subordinate has been raised to intolerable equality with husband: her slave even has a subordinate of his own (433–5, his favourite: p. 150). Husband degrades to the level of his subordinates—son, and slaves. His two slaves steal her slave’s part. Watch how families breed interpersonal complications, for that’s what they are. Farcical—says Farce. Demaenetus has done his own introduction. Everything’s started so well, too. The only way now is up, and then down: “At first . . . he seems like the kindly, supportive, and tolerant father. . . . In fact, Demaenetus is a hypocritical old reprobate.”14 “Four fifths of the way through the play, the plot of Plautus’ Asinaria takes a sudden and surprising turn . . . ; suddenly, at line 735, without warning, comes the startling turn . . . ; so extraordinary a transition . . . ; the change in the character of Demaenetus, which appears as the critical discontinuity in the play, is in fact a secondary phenomenon, a function of an alteration in the plot.”15 Demaenetus “begins to enjoy his role a bit too much, to go too far with it.”16 So will Demaenetus wind up deteriorated, degenerate, or true colours showing? Is(n’t) the “Father who would befriend Son” plot designed to feed us suspicion?17 How far shall we go: when undone matrona, at the kill, suspects the old man has been lying to her about all those business dinners “through the alphabet,”18 giving her that stuff about “exhausting days at the office,” and stealing her things so she’s been “torturing innocent maids” (864–7, 871–4; 888–9: p. 134); is this even half enough to accept the “suggest[ion] that this is not the first time Demaenetus has gone astray, [or] a more sinister implication: slaking his lust on Philaenium has been his goal all along”?19 Still, Asinaria is about the play in Asinaria—there is plenty of scope for deciding how (much) to ham it up, as you like it (pp. 170–2).20 This is already true of this plot-laden curtain-raiser. The informational load of these scene-setting senarii (p. 118) is relatively high. But if the “LIB–DEM” dialogue serves as a work-horse for sense, that doesn’t exonerate it from serving up a work-house of nonsense. Far from it, Asinaria

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already tears it up, to “improvize.” As ever, Plautus “makes a mess of Comedy. More, his theatre makes a mess with Comedy.”21 Love it for that. To be sure, in terms of the argument, the very first lines uttered in character made it indelibly clear that pater’s role turns on the instrumentality of his investment in his only begotten son (and refugee self). Here is how the hombre services his homicidal repulsion at the spousal virus—his missusomatosis (16–22): So. As you will want for your one and only son to outlive your lifetime, out of harm, outlasting, so be my witness, by your status of elder, and by that woman, the one that you fear, the wife, if this day, as regards me, you tell me anything false, that said wife of yours shall outlast your span of time, and that in her life—your life shall fall to the plague.

This is muscular Latin,22 a cameo of Roman seriousness that moulds sense to sound to modality so as to play off the difference-within-parallelism that binds a family nucleus: between sicut . . . , ita . . . , and ut . . . clauses: the son’s tuom . . . tuae ~ the parents’ tuam . . . tuam and the redoubled rhymes superesse . . . sospitem et superstitem ~ ted testor per senectutem . . . per- . . . tu metuis ~ superstes . . . pestem oppetas; uis . . . uitae ~ uiua uiuus. Mighty murderous stuff, this, drawing us our “dramagram” (cashed out in the “fight to the death” finale, esp. 886, uita uxoris annua, 901, periisse cupio, 905, uxoris mortem: 911, mortuus est Demaenetus, p. 170). But this slave voice leads us on, too, through sole reference to “boy” → minimal once-over for “self ” → repetition trauma for “partner” phobia: . . . unicum gnatum tuae | → . . . per senectutem tuam | perque illam, quam tu metuis, uxorem tuam | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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. . . uxor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . illa uiua uiuus . . .

The rhetoric informs us—those who overhear—how power in today’s domus will triangulate. That is the burden of this clearly enunciated appeal for actor and (so) audience to mark these words: there should no more be collapse of distance between father and son than between husband and “that wife”—the ma in matrona. And this means: that’s just what there will be, and the script is telling us how to align ourselves plot-wise.23 But the fun of the entrée scene lies in its verbalizing of slave-master relations. In its “dialogism,” as such. When they strike up, (imaginary) lost words between the pair have preceded their audibility to us. “Enter already chinwagging” is how plays do start. The first page of a first act often just gets the players strolling to centre-stage with by-play, to focus and hush spectators. And yet, from (before) the off, proxemics strike up their silent choreography of social roles in interaction. To all appearances, this slave takes it upon himself to speak before being spoken to, to address master—owner and head of house (senex)—without asking permission or giving the courtesy of an appellative, and to presume to pronounce openly the presumption that master will like both the filial bonding and the marital enmity expressed. The rhetorical move in the exchange is, no doubt, a token of deference—appealing to master, mobilizing his deference, in the name of all he cares for and against. All the same, within this carapace lurks . . . —cheek. The anastrophe (the preposition postponed) in med erga, 20, shunts forward this forward slave. “The existence of such dialogues . . . embodies a kind of toleration of ‘answering back,’ a temporary, conventional suspension of the master’s expectation of obedient silence and of his power to enforce it.”24 At the heart of the elaborated formalities, the point is aggressive confrontation that smuggles in asseveration—in the shape of oblique death threat against master. “Tell me no lies [Speak up, I want the truth and I want it] right now [or else—].” What a nerve!25 This must be one scared slave. If master doesn’t blow his top, the pair of them must be on close terms. (Is this a round in the family wars about to begin? “Have they been here before?”) Master plumps for the reading “pomposity = anxiety.” He takes the pushy pressure on the chin, and encourages slave to spit it out (23–4,26 27–8):27

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In God’s Truth, huh? I see that I am under oath and obliged to speak up, whatever your question. So right now. What is it you are seeking to know, speak up. So far as I know, I’ll make it so you know.

The routine repeats, in fewer words, so greater urgency; adding in the comic cue “this is no laughing matter” (29–30): I beg, lordy, don’t mock, but answer my question. Watch it, no lying to me. Why don’t you ask your question?

Later on we shall have an action replay, seen and told the way the slave sees and says it, when he fills in his assistant agent (alone together to plot) and wakes us up (all together to overhear the(m) plot: 362–4): See, today the old boy took me off to one side, away from home. He threatened me and you: we are both going to be over-elmed.28 if there aren’t twenty minae of cash for Argyrippus by today.

This is not at all what master told him.29 But it is what master did to him. He’d thought he was for it. Frog-marched to the place too phobic to name—the workhouse (= the mill).30 When master good-as-fills in the blank, slave makes him take the dreaded words he spat out and “spit them away—hawking up, right from deep down the throat, all the way to death—.” “Watch out for trouble, ok”—“Oh no, not yours. Your wife’s.” “My reward for that is you’ll have no cut in the fear” (38–44).31 The slave takes us somewhere else, filling any space left by the vacant plot, so that we can taste the script. Verse and worse, it’s a nasty bit of work to get rid of repressions on, an excuse for bad manners in public, offensive body noise. A horror show played for laughs: yukkh! This was the wind-up to that heralding of the missing plot, where clichébusting pater tells that he already knows all about son, slave agents, and her next door (52–4, 57). A pair of founding formulae for the play introduce the revelation. Argu(ment)ably, they both tune us in to Asinaria: (1) YOU WISH. It’s time for slave to be at master’s service. His reaction is to hope master’s “wishes all come true” (di tibi dent quaecumque op-

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tes, 45: pp. 164–5). The rest of the scene unfolds master’s will: to buy son’s love, make a killing from the family’s own resources. No anger, coercion, or threats. Rather, slave pushes his luck—even buttonholing master by name—to extract that lifeline in case of a scrape (104–7): LIB DEM LIB DEM

Whaddya say, Demaenetus? What do you want? If I happen to get in a trap, will you buy me out, if the enemy cut me off? Yes, I’ll buy you out.

This move contrives to name Demaenetus for the only time in the first act. The handle will be bandied around by his two agents and the “courier” (344, 349, 354, 382, 392, 452, 479, 488, 580), and appear in both Argyrippus’ filiation (522) and when dad is pronounced dad meat upon his exposure (911). We shall have to wait till the play is over before we can know why he got stuck with it. By then, we shall have decided what Father wished himself, and how we wish to relate to that (pp. 214–15). Meanwhile, now that slave is master’s agent, he gets cocky, and comical: nothing and no one to fear, no harm can come: for master has made a clean breast of it in making his plea (111–13). Minds, and morales, have met, for master “promised” a safety-net (promitto tibi, 97), and can himself now rest easy, knowing this slave never breaks a “promise” (quod promiserit, 122).32 But will bankrolling son for his jellyroll bring master his heart’s desire? Why then, in cementing solidarity with (less-than-) alarming master, did the two of them trade so heavily on their shared hostility towards wifeand-mistress? (16–22; 43–4; esp. 60–3, uerum meam uxorem, Libane, nescis qualis sit? . . . ;33 78–9; 85–7; 95–7; = hostes, 105–6) Solidarity generated by this unanimity in wishing amounts to a bid to fold spectators into the drama. Asinaria drums up well-wishers with its . . . maleviolence (p. 213). (2) JUST ASKING FOR IT. It took ages, not “no time at all,” to get slave’s muffled question out of him: “Where are you taking me—not there?” Then we skip the real questioning, from master: “What’s afoot, why didn’t you tell me?” Instead, we face a trio of (suspended) rhetorical questions: “Why ask you, why menace you, why get cross with son?” (47–9, suscenseam).34 This novelty puts a question mark in slave’s mind: “Now I am fazed. What’s this? Going where? . . . I am in the fear.” (50–1, in metu | ~ 44, in metu |) Quiz-

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zical and farcical stuff, but also an undercurrent of menace runs through the exchange, however roundly in denial. It must be a brute assumption that even to mention “grilling, threatening, getting cross” should be enough to put the fear into a slave and a slave “in the fear.” Could a master’s assurance reassure a slave? He came in scared and imploring good faith. It must be a brave assumption that so far he has gone along with master, and his assurance has reassured him. But master could be fetching him to that (unmentionable) hard place between a rock and another rock (31).35 As the gloss he will give agent Two makes explicit, when the plot thickens, the flak could see them “over-elm-ed” if they take on the duchess and fall foul of her, or her hard-man agent (p. 222 n.28). Anyhow, own up: a master could always change tack. Just like that. Comedy plays incorrigibly on this cruel edge: the promise of violence in, and on, the air. Thus for master to order slave agent to “strip a nude,” is for him to order slave agent to “fly without wings” and “fish the sky, hunt mid ocean with nets” (92–3, 99–100): he could be about to come out with something as dangerously impossible as “stealing a robe from the Mrs.” (884, 929–30, 939).36 Coming after maximas nugas agis (91, “You’re talking utter nonsense”), it is also to “order slave to strip [master] nude [sc. for scourging . . . ?],” and that constitutes cheek-and-a-half. “Plautus is careful finally to let us off the hook, to defuse the threat of too much reality. But he never quite lets us forget . . . that the true stakes of the comic conflict are different from that they appear.”37 No wonder that “imploring” unobtrusively threads (fear) insistently through the script: obsecro, at 29, 39, 411, 431, 473, 608, 672, 688, 740, 851, 926; note the asyndeton supplicabo, exobsecrabo, etc., 246 (the latter a a{pax [“hapax,” i.e., nowhere else, in extant Latin]).

Meantime, in our other home from home, next door, cash rules: between madam and customers. On the other hand, here is a mother working a daughter. Couldn’t money and respect align this mother and child? Whore and her “special” client will protest this, in the name of love (or “love”?).38 Does respectability through the wall earn any more respect? Shouldn’t matrona align money and respect in her dealings with her family—her child and husband (her men)? Whatever, father should control his family with money and respect: but denied one, he jettisons the other (and plays the lad). His subordinates keep faith with him, but this unmoneyed alliance

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runs wild, heading straight for comic disgrace. Homing in, so everyone can get their kicks. Next up, madam will open up her world (chapter 2). Scenes alternate, so that (shorter) sketches centred on the bordello (chapters 2, 4, 6) will frame the antics in the family plot, until the gap closes for the finale (chapter 7). That is the play’s design (chapter 8).

Notional leveling keeps appearing on display in dis play. Between disempowered powerful and empowered powerless. In one portmanteau word-and-a-half from Plautus: argumentum.

2

Drive a Hard Bargain 127–152 Loverboy’s lament 153–248 Loverboy spars with Madame: a deal is cut The comic stage yokes together society’s house of decency and society’s red house. As paterfamilias takes the part of his loving son, they bid for a stake in the turn-over of the one-girl “brothel” through the party wall. Uptown and downtown interpenetrate and threaten a merger. Assets for sharing. It will be left to matrona to reassert the difference. But it will be left to the audience to make a final assessment.1 Money rules both outfits. What of desire? Comedy tests the world that insists on coupling carnal pleasure with civic degradation, when it fills the reservoir of energy that drives the strategies of masking, repression, and sublimation on which the family is founded. When conjugality buckles, its need for desire, affection, and affirmation is (traditionally) exposed through alignment with the sex factory. So long as the product supplies disposable toys for absorbing adolescent testosterone at the city limits, it provides the community with its other system—the object lesson in othering, denial, and obliviation. Taking to heart the existence of sentiment, caring, and generosity in the exploitation economy of sexual ownership of expendable females will spell taking to task the home of propriety for failure to monopolize human values. Defamiliarize the domus, and there shows up the money-go-round of a sexless (de-pleasured) powerhouse.2 It will dawn on us. That’s why today’s cash-plot heist of “self-swindling” gets under way as morning comes up. Master fetched out slave for kickstart. Then it’s off(-stage) we go, to the mall (the forum: pp. 183–4): • to kill time (= master at the bank: argentarium |, 116, and, last word in the act, argentarium |, 126: in this redoubled echo, hear the “Starting-

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Point of the Plot” [= Archi-bulus, in Plautin, 115, consilia+exordiar] that images “Cash-as-Ass”: asinariam) • to magic up the embezzlement (= agent One, off to . . . snooze a while. We can relax, too—and let the playwright fool us: pp. 143–4) • to stumble into the miracle of a Courier, fresh in town, who fetches along, to mother’s agent, just the sum required (= agent Two, in earshot at the barber’s: to all appearances, slave stubble sat cheek by jowl beside free, and no fuss showing: p. 148) Mean time. Out on his ear, a youth is turfed in a heap onto the street, now last night is done and dusted, as per payment rendered; rooms are cleared, as ever, come each morning. We can only assume that this is the problem child whose confessions we just overheard at one remove. Before he is gone, some of us may have our doubts about this:3 we can have this salty specimen come across as less wet than “the average comic adulescens”—more self-reliant, if the worse for wear.4 Later it will transpire that he was a sassy alter ego, a boy who is now sucked dry but has no oddball pal of a pater to turn to, and squeeze for a sub. I relegate documentation of this (formerly the chief) critical crux of Asinaria to a whopping footnote or two5 because I am sure that Plautus does fool with his audience here: it’s no great feat to trick spectators in this theatre, in fact it’s a built-in option, because (say it loud), in the absence of names, a mask for a part such as the adulescens amator specifies the role, not the individual.6 “Diabolus” will first be given his comic theatre name at 634, by when he is opposed to the Son, as his Rival (cf. 751, 913); Madame Cleäreta is only named at 751, in Diabolus’ still-drying contract.7 Thus the “[Diabolus]-[Cleareta]” scene is nameless, while its successor, the “[Cleareta]-Philaenium” scene, will name and shame the play’s “young lovers”: • “Argyrippus son of Demaenetus,” picked on and picked out formally as the john who is (not) special (522, cf. 542); first named at 74 (p. 161). • “Philaenium,” already flagged up as meretrix at 53. She will be named some more when the agents takes their chance to paw her (585, 623, 647, 680), when written into the contract so only Diabolus can paw her (753),

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and when Demaenetus takes his chance to throw for luck, with his paws on her (905). Named, that is, for “Scripted Loving-and-Kissing” (Filevmatic aij~no": p. 189). An obtrusive Roman touch in the scene even draws attention to this anonymity, where the hate-song revvs. up with imaginary threats to take madam and daughter to imaginary “triumviral” court, and turn ’em in— “naming names” (131–2): ibo ego ad tresuiros uostraque ibi nomina | faxo erunt.8 Now, when an irate lover’s fume follows an irenic father longing to be in those beginner’s shoes once again, this sets up the prospect of bouleversement within the “masculinity” roles: senex/adulescens and/or/= pater/filius. Soon we’ll see. Right away, sparks fly. Jack the lad starts up a hate-song, bending our ears as in arias throughout Plautus’ oeuvre, but this one subsides after just a dozen astringent lines,9 and to our astonishment, in recollection, this snatch will prove to have been the script’s solitary lyric (in cretic tetrameters: pp. 119–20, 183).10 The monologue then settles down a bit, but still keeps up the uproar, painting a plaintive picture of the establishment before success in bringing out madam. She will trade aspersions, lay down her law, and bargain over future pricing. The play is going to look toward dinnertime, toward din-time. Tonight, a family meal and a sex party, in here. Hee-haw. Here is where Asinaria bares teeth, first to last. The sap is collared, his credit has run out. Cloth ears thinks he can turn back their clock—his custom raised this firm from “filthy rags and crusts” (punsome sordido . . . pane in pannis, 142). It’s not the hooker’s fault, it’s the brothel-keeper’s (147): She does what you tell her—obeys your command. You’re mother, you’re own-her.

The threats, the insults, fetch mother out “at length”11 to teach how like, how unlike, her gaffe is to next-door’s version of matriarchy. Insults run off her duck’s back: hear her out. Have her say. She doesn’t mind saying; it’s part of her job—P.R. She is the independent woman, her own boss. Reputation? When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose. Each syllable clinks a donation (153–5: a blazon of spondaic verse without resolution):

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Never a one of your words, not for dosh in gold sovereigns, can a buyer unload from me here, should one appear on the scene. The verbals you wrong us with are twenty-four carat gold, pure cash.

This is the point. Provoke mama to stand up for free trade, fair trade. Capital on the nail, in currency named for ex-world-beating Macedonian royalty, named Filivppeioi for élite “equestrianism” (p. 236 n.12). You want, so buy. Insults register here as bids. “Boycott” and “sanction” spell bluster and suction. Terms and conditions are, business as usual, that the highest offer gets exclusive hire—until credit expires (165–6): Take her home solo, if you’ll forever pay solo, on demand. Your promise, this, forever. Just one condition: long’s you pay top whack.

Market forces apply—supply matches demand (172):12 Par for par payment. This is equity rendered: service for fee.

The law of electric lady land. The role of madame: Klev-arethv (“Our HeroSimply the Best of her Kind”). She is her function, her duty, her version of mother’s pride (officium meum, 173).13 The duet and duel of Madam and Client already give each other as good as they get, verbally speaking (158–70): in portum ~ portitorem . . . portorio solus solitudine . . . solus si ductem . . . numquam ~ solus . . . si semper solus . . . semper quae poscam dabis ~ datis ~ dandi . . . quod poscas numquam . . . expleri potes ~ numquamne expleri potes remisisti . . . remittam. Perhaps this adulescens’ adoption of maritime imagery for his shanty of a tirade itself serves to inflect him as something of a “generic” mannikin for the role—left pretty well where Plautus found him, in Athens-upon-sea (134–5)? The ocean notion is taken up by madam (157–8), after the outcast crystallized the house of sin as some “haven—with harbour-duties to pay the harbour-mistress” (in portum ~ portitorem priuabo portitorio ~ porti-

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torum simillimae sunt ianuae lenoniae, 158 ~ 159 ~ 241). Both customer and retailer know how to talk their talk, as one talks disillusion and the other talks enterprise (see below). What price “love” . . . ? Roll up, then, boys. The shop is open, it’s today already. The haggling starts high: “you want her for free? You can(’t) have her for free” (193–4): If one-twenty minae are paid me, cash, counted out in my hand, then, out of esteem, I shall grant you . . . tonight . . . free . . . for a bonus.

Now let’s get real: madam is the financial world’s expert witness, closest Comedy can come to the mall. She has “eyes,” not in the back of the head, but “in her hands,” “credit” is a matter of “trust,” and so the proverb ran, “One witness with eyes is worth ten with ears.”14 Roman business ran on fides, and so did Roman life: The Old Man is on oath from the start, his first words invoked Dius Fidius (23: pp. 131–2).15 Madam disdains Graeca fides (199: p. 127). What if fides is withheld from the one trusted by master? (458; cf. 583) His faithful slaves exult in their “perfidy” to others, licensed or not: Perfidiae, 545, confidentia, 547, fidentem, infidelis, 561, infidelis, 568, fidelis, 573; cf. 584, 586, 608, 611, 614, 617, 621, 667 (bis), 676, 772).16 More. In the course of these recriminations between madam and exclient, the play is focusing in on the terminology of “give and take”: do → accipio → ducto = amo (164–72: focused by the redoubled pun between modus and modo, 167, 169 ~ 168, 170).17 Haggling over sex is Asinaria’s game. Haggling over money, then; haggling over power. In Madam’s world, you want bread—buy it from the baker’s; pay for wine at the wine-shop (200). Sex is product, everything is for sale. Dowries say wives, too, are “a sellout” (cf. 87). Comedy plays all this as The End of Antique Rome, where the only credit was faith, when folk “baked and brewed” at home, and new-fangled luxury imports (such as Comedy) couldn’t help a paterfamilias crack up.18 Take it or leave it, comes the final offer (229–31, 234–40):

Drive a Hard Bargain BOY Mme

BOY

Mme

141

. . . Say, what do you reckon fair to pay you, for her, for her to go with no one else this year? For you? Twenty minae. Plus this condition: should someone else fetch ’em first, it’s bye bye you. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I have funds to pay what you demand. And I’ll pay, but on my terms. So you’re aware: (1) she’s to be my slave the whole livelong year through. (2) she’ll, in the time stipulated, let no man near her but me. Why, if you like, the slaves I have at home, I shall go and neuter, the men. For clincher, see you fetch a contract, tell us the way you like us. As you like it, what turns you on: load me up with conditions. Only—just fetch the cash along with you: I’ll stand the rest, easy.

Fair’s fair: can’t say fairer than that. Like many other comedies, Asinaria says it is very much concerned with “fairness” (aequum): when son comes to father (82); client vis-à-vis madam (176, 186, 229); weights and measures (303); on manners (354); son to father (837); teaching son evil (932). Here fairness is talking: “Wanted, 20 minae,” for one year’s sole rights; for the year starting tonight (230, 235 → 635, 721, 753, 848).19 The challenge is on for the young executive: to cadge, beg, or borrow the readies. “With interest,” he vows, if need be (245–8). Off with him to the mall to play ear-biter. It’s getting quite crowded over there. And now the race is on. Carn(iv)al cash-and-carry.

Now (we reckon) we have met the spectre of the spectacle. She has had our ear (p. 208), and spoke her lines for both the play’s mothers. If her neighbour could see herself in her mirror-figure, she would know herself loathed (= if her counterpart could say how she saw ruling her roost, could she make herself loved?). As for her client, this trainee for Sex in the City speaks for both the play’s boys. This one’s eyes are open; his counterpart’s

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are still full of moonshine. (He will despair of lasting till nightfall: 630.) The mall we are not to see is one end of the deal—but the sharp end is here, on stage: chapter 3.

Home is where the mart is. Where money can’t buy respect.

3

Funny Money 249–266 Slave One’s wake-up call 267–380 Slave Two’s . . . brainwave 381–406 The Courier arrives 407–503 The con’s too convincing: Saurea’s world The slave agent pair split and share the role as counterpart doublets (cf. alter noster, 58). One promised to help father help son, but has so far only napped, asleep off-stage and now back on. Time to assess the potential of his part in the script.1 He must save us from more excruciation by that horrid bully, Madam. So long as he’s with us, so long villain, we have a hero. Plautus knows how to get us on his side: foment sedition in the stalls, then swoop. Time, too, to . . . lose the plot, and dear Libanus’ part in it.2 A second time, this play’s over before it’s begun. Like master like agent—only the nice guy is fall guy twice in a row. One has snored through his big moment, snoozed it away;3 early bird Two has already happened on a chance of funds to divert, and high-tails it home to share the wheeze, with his mates, young master or astute Agent One (270–1): Seein’ its on a par they drink with me, go whorin’ on a par now I’ve got this prize I shall share it with ’em on a par In part.

Between the two sllaves, him-’n’-me, “as one,” they’ll llay an almighty favour on their masters—father-’n’-son (suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, 283; in commune, 286).4 Just as tight as tight’ll make it, this is the L-’n’-L- team, of Livbano" and Lewnivda", “Frank Incense” and “Leo Lionheart.” To clinch their deal, they need to defraud master without defrauding master, as promised. That is, they need to defraud mater. They

143

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will do that by defrauding her agent. They have already done this by splitting and doubling between themselves, pinching Saurea the Lizard’s role. The Steward will take no part, tread no boards. They do it for him. He stands in for his mistress, in the “male” world of money, the market, the mall, the household economy. But they now understudy him. He’s only a jumped-up (= “upstart”) slave: he’s not beyond their reach, he looks no different, can be impersonated without so much as a change of costume. One and Two combine roles, to come between the management and its purse-strings. They intervene between master and mistress. Her agent blocks master from the accruing and outgoing capital: now master’s gobetween agent is in one stroke of invention handed both the prospect of incoming capital as required to subvent the required expenditure, and the subsidiary agent who will allow him to play his own role of agent of subversion. (No time to lose, for it’s already bath-time, for the stranger ashore who is soon to appear in our midst, 357). So master’s slaves “formally” supplant mistress’s agent by literally taking over his role. One will defraud, not master, but mistress, by defrauding her agent. And his assistant Two will be instrumental in this. He will act getting his hands on arriving moneys; but then, the plan goes, allow himself to be “defrauded” by One, to divert the loot- needed to fund joint spillage by those strange bedfellow buddies, old-and-young master. But Two has already relieved One of his role as principal agent entrusted by pater with the job of dreaming up a wheeze: for Two has, without a second’s or a second thought, already posed as agent Lizard, when he had chanced to meet Courier in the barber’s chair (343–57). There: more plot hi-jacked, play missed, and comedy suppressed. Typical, of comedy.5 In walks loadsamoneybags. But this close-shaven washed-up Courier is cagey with his assignment. He will not be imposed on by any intermediary, so it will be a close-run thing. Neither master’s agent, nor mistress’s—real thing or impostor. His 20 minae wad is earmarked for master in person or not at all, since a stranger may as well be a wolf. These will be his terms and conditions. Both the con artists know the significance of the sum, and that there is no time to lose (364). So, then, “Why not just take him straightway to Demaenetus and be done with it?” is no rhetorical question (p. 151).6 I’m game: because they know pater is there, but madam’s doors are here, not in the mall, and a Diabolical client will arrive any moment waving a cheque (pp. 141–2). Because . . . —but this isn’t what the shenanigans are about.7

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They are about haggling (p. 140). For more is delivered than metatheatrics when “the trader expressly states that, had Saurea been there, he would have handed over the money.”8 There’s more than a slip “twixt delivery and receipt,” just as there is here between paraphrase and text (396): argenti uiginti minas, si adesset, accepisset.

It’s worthwhile to take stock, the way a real Stewart the Steward would (20 minae in it for someone). See it from Courier’s viewpoint. He has corroboration between the barber-shop chance encounter and the slave’s confirmation of the address. Plus the check between the slave’s (leonine) physical description of the atriensis, the guy getting a trim, and his appearance at the rendezvous. Before his very eyes/ears he will get a thorough and thoroughly convincing, circumstantial, sample of accountancy from the accountant’s account, plus the offer of a promissory signature of receipt. What more could a paranoid postman possibly want? Well, for instance, should accipere depend on “reception” in the house, formal admission through the hallway, from atrium to the bursary, tablinum? The staff might not be able to wheel out master to meet and greet mercator in person, however far he’s sailed, however politely he may have shaved and scrubbed; but with a bonanza like “20 minae,” any securicorps worth their salt should expect to be taken in, and “made at home.” With all those $$$/£££/€€€ on his person, he can’t be too careful. The Roman public all knew perfectly well the sanctity of hospitium, in the pleasure of business as in the pleasure business. Plautus’ public watches the terms and conditions for entry to two houses: (A) says “Come with money or don’t come in”; and (B) retorts “Don’t let them in, and you don’t get their money” (p. 232 n.19). This is why One just made such a big noise out of answering the front door . . . before the bell could be rung. To stress exclusion, nonadmission, at the threshold (382–91). On any account, “give and take” is more than straightforward handover, physical transfer (p. 140). There is a general pledge involved, to honour the system, and everyone’s place in it. Even the slaves’ conspiracy must play securely within the system. Safe delivery models for the insecurity in all this Security: money’s never safe enough (no one’s ever safe from money). Rest assured, the play is neither cutting loose nor breaking its spine when, after many a grin, we suddenly learn that master will take mat-

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ters into his own hands now he has these on the swag (735–6: pp. 161–2). In turning over and round every which way the fit between money and power, the slaves will have blazed our trail to their owners’ contest in ownership. They will also have brought us the “fun” we were promised. The inventive jockeying between unbuttoned master and his old hand played emollient diplomacy. By contrast, the verbal joust “Madam vs Diabolus” was typecast abuse, crowing rhetoric (oratio, 204), then businesslike negotiation; “Madam vs daughter Philaenium” will be one-sided debate (oratio, 516: pp. 175–6), bullying met by dumb resistance; and “Diabolus and Pal” will play canny legislators ironing out loopholes, then insulted losers turned whistle-blowers. In the finale, “Pal and Matron” join “Pater, son, and their Philaenium,” and verbal interaction disintegrates as the cast fly their several ways. But the lion’s share of the script, all the donkey work, is assigned to the two agents from L-. • First they fail to unload the courier (249–503).9 • Next they’ll manage to overload the lovers (545–745: p. 163, chapter 9).10 Playacting Plautin: here’s how to whoop it up. This is where mice play—slave agents, children, and that glorified runner, the Courier (another species of messenger, cash on express delivery: a free version of The Slave in a ’Urry). One unrolls the ball (256–7): Serfguard master. Don’t you do the same as other slaves normally do —applying talented brains to set up a swindle on master.

The omens indicate “elms” and “rods,” inseparable from “sharing advice and implementing a plan” (262, 264; 261). Enter Two, at full speed. He brings swag (talk of swag, that is, as if in the bag), and . . . a pun (that will fasten up the play: 849+850, p. 169). If they catch the wave, they can make sure that both big and little master are under their sway (285–6): LEO LIB

LEO

nostro deuincti beneficio. “uinctos” nescioquos ait: non placet, metuo . . . ~ bound fast by our good turn.

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“Bound” he’s calling some people or other: I disapprove. I’m afraid. . . .

Two would “pay off his own back 200-lashes worth of [swollen contusion, so “pregnant”] bump,”11 to meet One—he “carries his whole hoard on his back” (de tergo; in tergo: “back/hide”: 276–7). Agents One, Two make a two-man army: so their greetings are a “verbal raid” (uerbiuelitatio, 307. Of “whip, prison, chains, rods”).12 “You—bound (uinctus, 301), stripped, weighted, strung up by the feet, handcuffed.“. . . “Executioners” bonanza, torture, itchy shoulder-blades. . .” (297–316: cf. p. 162).13 Two talks tough, and One “has his own household . . . —back, too” (—tergum, 319 = a para prosdokian [out of left field] “ouch”; cf. 321, tergo): Look, if a back must clear the bill, I’m game, rob the National Bank.

Toughing it out, enduring, lasting, suffering: paying for your kicks the hard way. Set for the theme tune of obdurate Asinaria ((ob-)durare: 176 ~ 196; 322, obdurabo, periurabo; 573, 907). It is hammered home by the pun at 324 (itself offset and set off by the paronomasia [clanguage] between 323 and 324: . . . fert fortiter. | fortiter . . .): fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. ~ “Bravely endure bad,” the sayin’ would run, “ensure good thereafter.”

In the play’s strategy, brute slave “suffering” is the well of the(ir) humour (patior: 240, 324, 375 bis, 378, 535, 738, 739, 810, 832, 845, 847, 907). Two is going to put One through it, and tells him so, in no uncertain terms, in order to carry off his impersonation of mistress’s agent Lizard and con Courier. So One is not “to get cross” if he gets thrashed, but “suffer, suffer, suffer” (372; patitor . . . patitor, 375, patiere, 378). He must “promise,” and does (promitto, 377). Showing how to take it, suffer in silence however little you like it, is the recipe for their second great scene, in which the bitten bite back, as they work their victim and beneficiary into the ground (p. 163, chapter 9). This tailpiece is where the farce kicks in, for forcible proxemic abuse all the way (esp. 373, attingas: pp. 237–8 n.29).14 So, re-enter Two as Lizard, with “a beating or two for anyone who meets

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him in a stew,” as One warns Courier (uapulabit . . . | si med . . . tetigerit, uapulabit, 404, 406).15 Two has lots to live up to, if he’s to live up to Lizard: One invents one bastard of a nonce-word in Aeacidinus, as he mockglamorizes this comic “wrath”: a match for Achilles’ (grandson of Aeacus), through allusion to the first mad word of Homer’s Iliad, Mh`nin). These words do what they say, “filling up” ears with thundering “bad temper”: Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus . . . iratus . . . iratus (405–6: iracundia, 451, nimis iracunde, 470, irasci, 472).16 Stew?—We’re promised an epic tantrum. The opening complaint got us straight into the jumped-up accountant Saurea’s world. Let’s go there. Leonida all but tells us he was a client in the barbers’ chair (343, in tonstrina ut sedebam). But it must be part of the odium attaching to Saurea that he would order Libanus to attend him at the barber’s (408)—he would.17 One, “Lizard” lies, failed to turn up at the barber’s as per “orders”: “bad look-out for back/hide and legs” (408–9, tergo et cruribus: 410; imperiosus, 416, imperium): MERC>LIB LIB>MERC STEW>LIB

It’s Commander O.T.T. Ow, damn me. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . You whipping boy. Scoffed at my command, did you?

“A beating. If I’d got a whip . . . , blows for those hips of yours” (417–19, uerbero . . . uerberare). Here is the power of Mistress, the corporal version of Madam’s verbal violence (cf. imperem, 422, 431): Pow, you got it coming.

What a pain, the real pain of a pretend assault. One thick ear. Next, designed to impress courier into taking a “promissory receipt” for delivery of the stash (repromittam, 454), the mock-accountant runs a menacing audit, ad nauseam, of the latest transactions in the household budget. It needs “weighing up” and “counting out” (pendo, 460, pro dictis . . . pendentur, 483; denumerare, 453, enumerari, 498, adnumerauit et credidit, 501: p. 150). The grosser it gets, the better the take-off? Lizard’s first strategy was to impress Courier by intimidation of One: would it rub off on him, and he submit, and obey orders recounted at one remove, now enforced in his presence? Would he “rate Steward’s word as worth all too little”? (nemi-

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nem meum dictum magni facere, 407)18 His manner is compulsive repetition, counting out the insult of disobedience in triplicate (ut iusseram, 408 + iussi, 410 + ut iusseram, 413 = imperium meum contempsisti, 416). His complaint is exactly this: he must “bark every command, not one thing once, but the same things one hundred times over” and, far from ever coming out ahead, he can’t even “keep up with the work” (421–3). This is as “never-ending” as the drudgery that is never done (semper, 420 ~ nihil est, 427). • Over and over and over, he lowers himself (| iussin . . . , | iussin . . . , | iussin . . .), to attend to each sordid detail: “shit, webs, studs” (424–6). • The dedicated manager identifies with his noble pile: “gate, columns, doors” (424–6). • He knows the chores of maintenance work as the grind of surveillance: “fetching and carrying away, knocking down from up high, elbowgrease polishing to a shine” (424–6). Yes, this fun-ctionary thinks in threes, “just these 1-2-3 days past, I’ve assigned full time to the mall” (428). So how can he be in two places at once? How can he make money work double time out at loan for interest, and keep the home front at it (or, even, awake)? (429–30). This is righteous wrath from the servant true, all that stands between master and a “pig-sty” (430). This is what raises his voice and his hand against the slacker (430–1: dormitis interea domi, erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat—tinnitus, Courier will call it, 448).19 This conscientious rat knows those dirty mice “sleep” when he is away (as One bragged to us at 253: p. 190).20 The teamwork that follows is the truly offensive offensive. At any rate, it will be this that will make Courier move to leave, One to call a halt, and Two at last to acknowledge Courier’s presence (446–51).21 To induce Courier to join in, “Steward” plays deaf to the stranger, rudely weighing into his busybody routine of checking the latest in the household finances in mid-verse (432). This lion-tamer of a chartered accountant conjures up a heaving swirl of money going out, and money coming in. That is (louder): money coming in, get it? We fantasize a regulated hive with a ghostly cast of characters, four in a dozen lines (and one kept for later: p. 152). They tell us what a Saurea adds up to; at the same time, they sneak past us an impressionistic sketch of the whole episode, and of the play at large (432–45):

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Olive, shipment. Quid pro quo. We meet first “Le Compte,” Stichus, Steward’s favourite, named for every orderly “row” of figures in the ledger. He would be Lizard’s pet—his pet creation, the slaves insinuate. The version of himself that permits Lizard to put on airs and play at being Master to a Steward of his own: his trusted minion, and “deputy” self (uicarius, 433). The middle man safely “clears the bill, payment made,” just the way Lizard should be doing, if you catch the drift, Courier (rem soluit? :: soluit, 433 ~ solutam rem futuram, 454; datum, 433, dedero, 439, dedi, 444 ~ da, 457, duit, 460, daturum, 466, da, 473, dare, 488). Two understands that Steward would see through the flattery, join in rather than object to the satirized self-praise, and still not give an inch or soften a second (434–5). He is already moving on to the next item. We are still taking in the other track—of Leonida’s covert self-exposure! For this Saurea does know this deputy, stand-in for Saurea. Extremely well. “And,” he can say with feeling and no need to act, “no there ain’t a slave in master’s house that’s worth more than” this one “is” (435). Trust the slave: he’s playing his part to the fool. Sale of wine, payment. Quid pro quo. For Le Compte to receive, item. Another successful transaction. Yesterday’s: coming close to here, now, today. This time, the cash-delivery is perfect: The customer—“Extraordinaire,” Exaerambus—actually fetched his banker along.22 Where he once took a year to repay credit, now he’s so keen, he comes round to write a cheque on the spot (438–40). He comes round here, to this spot. Fetches the cash “home.” Get it, Courier? This is how to satisfy a Lizard’s aspirations (satis fecit . . . fecisse satis. . . . sat agit, 437, 440 ~ facturum satis pro iniuria, 497). To get into his good books, cough up: “credit” his “credit” (credidi, 439 ~ credit, 459, crederes, 462 (with Courier’s punning retort, 463), credi, 493, credam, 494, credidit, 501, crederes, 503). Payment for worksheet; unspecified. Sub-contractor “Le Coureur,” Dromo, is half accounted for; the rest to follow. He has fetched and handed over cash; he will complete the hand-over. Get the idea, Courier, half way there yourself: “what about the balance, then?” (reddere . . . redditum, 441–2 ~ reddam . . . reddam, 455–6). Consider that Dromo names a(nother) “Slave in a ’Urry,” his inventor’s dummy of a “Runner.”23 As Steward, though, Two knows he’d be half-way toward saying “Runaway,” in Lizard’s sorea head— and so, still worse, a likely “Defaulter” (as Courier will threaten, 446; and “Steward” will bluff, 469, 488).24

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Party goblets, out on loan. To be returned. The fantasy ends with a total failure to collect, after two ticks and one half-and-half entry (pending). Ends with a Roman loan—no interest, this is what friends are for, caring by sharing (p. 143). What a Lizard can’t abide, and that is what “we” cannot abide about him (445). Ends with a drinks party, not yet, or ever, over; broken up, when the hire arrangements collapse. Like Demaenetus’? That friend, and addict, of caring-sharing. A still worse thought: when “Philo-damus receives these goblets” in this false accountant’s inventory, does the “joke” lurk that Plautus’ Greek forerunner gets to guest in the Latin play, “Dhmovfilo" through the looking glass? Sickening “enough” to put Courier off the show? (446) And us? “Friendly-People,” this stagey Greek (stage-?)name says—all “Crowd-Pleaser” and “Penchant-for-Vulgarity” (cf. p. 213)? To match the opening assault on his fellow slave, a change of tack-tics turns One loose on Courier—“Disgrace to humanity! Pay him the cash, I beg, or he’ll badmouth you,”—eggs him on some more: “Stun that huzzy or you’re in trouble, your legs will get shattered” (473–4), before Twoas-Lizard assails him in person, slave or free no matter (478–9, 481–4, uapula . . . ut uapules . . . uerbero): STEW>MERC MERC>STEW

STEW>MERC

MERC>STEW STEW>MERC

Get beaten. Lord, you got it coming, your beating. The minute I clap eyes on Demaenetus today. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sure and it’s retribution will be mine. On your back. Goddam you. Retribution will be yours, executioner? On me? Yes, plus the penalty for your verbal abuse will be paid me today. You what, whipping boy? You don’t say, ball-’n’-chain?

In the end, the “vitriol” cancels out (contumelia)—“I’m a person as much as you.” “P’raps, and yet . . . a man’s a wolf, not a man . . . —to a man who don’t know what he’s like” (490; 493–5)—and Courier clings to his terms and conditions: no offence, “It was Demaenetus I wanted. . . . It’s Demaenetus I want.” In person. In person. (392, 452, cf. 488, 495–6). Accept no substitute. None (466, 494–5).

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Whereas Courier began convinced, or at least prepared to go along with the idea, that this is Saurea (noli, Saurea, 417, . . . Saurea, oro, 431, he pleaded), he ends by squaring up to this Steward in a Stew, and flat discountenancing him (Sauream non noui, 464). So, if the slaves went right, in bringing their brand of slapstick to the fore, where did they go wrong? Maybe Two got into the Lizard role too easily. His nastiness even puts off the Courier. Why should he join the long line of Saurea’s victims? Why would anyone help him? Tiering in domestic staffing breeds such fiends. The downside of modern efficiency, pyramid organization. Once, before status anxiety, these old-style slaves know, “a master knew his slave, the slave knew his master,” and so it is, for them, but not for master and this Steward, as they lie through their teeth (456). The cuckoo slave is a stranger in his master’s own home: “a wolf ” in the fold (495); the Courier isn’t the only one that knows Saurea well enough only to refuse to credit him (464). On the way out, the con man tries to lay one last ghost on Courier, and sends our way one last smuggled protest against the régime such a Steward imports to, and for, Rome (499–503): Cash deposit. Payment made to Lizard, in person. By His “Éminence,” Periphanes, “Transparently Honest and Known to be so on All Sides.”25 “From rosy Rhodes,” as loaded a mercator from across the water as . . . present company. Man to man, master’s absence notwithstanding, Steward (he emphasises) was treated to parity, as if . . . free, as if . . . master (solus . . . mihi . . . soli, 500). He “counted out-and-credited” cash worth sixty minae. Yes, three times (⫻ 3, check) what Courier is carrying about him. Fetch to Steward now. The trickster boasts, all too truly, “He wasn’t conned.” Now Courier won’t be conned, either. And both One, Two, and we know perfectly well, how true (502–3): if Courier had checked out Lizard proper with other folk, then sure he’d credit him now.

Not by handing over the loot. But by trusting that the take-off of The World According to Saurea tells true. His victims do know him well: the feud has gone on “forever” (420; cf. pp. 148, 232 n.21). They are signing off by telling us plain that the best way to “check him out” would be to ask people who

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know him. “Others” like . . . themselves. The fiction doesn’t work; the fiction works. What Asinaria doesn’t say, it finds a way to yell. So would One, “The Brains,” have made a worse job of acting the ruffian Steward, but a better job of unloading the Courier? This is for a director to interpret, for audiences to decide. Two even pushes the role on to the logical conclusion, of disregarding the Courier’s free status. And Two did not just do One out of his role as The Brains on the team; he gave his comrade a whacking which itself helped spoil the con’s chances of coming off. In this clowning, it’s obviously intolerable outrage for this slave both to wish he literally had the whip hand (418), and, as he assaults master’s agent, to complain that he “must carry a club with him” (427, cum fusti): he here appropriates the righteous-rightful “stick” attribute of a master, an elder, a paterfamilias (scipionem, 124). And tells us so. This “ascendancy” will turn out to be the mould for what One and Two are going to put Loverboy through. Next.

The power of money for little master meant a ticket to ride, the going rate to make a happy hooker. The same power for not-so-big master meant his opportunity to . . . bring the house down. In protest at being ousted from his role as pater by mater. His primal scream, we could say, his existential Angst. His point in vowing to reproduce his own father’s naughtiness was to work towards blurring his part with his son’s, via their agents’. He invents a role where he could escape from his conjugal “castration.” Where he could resort to playing (his own) father, to mask his infantilization, by playing it through.26 But his plot is in resentment of expropriation by his imperious matrona (and her agent); whereas his son’s plot is in thrall to appropriation by that other imperious mama, via her agent’s money-spinning “services.” Asinaria will not forget that its paterfamilias could neither block nor facilitate his son because the wife and mother could do both: she thwarts him, just as the bawd-and-mother thwarts son—and daughter. Escape into second adolescence was futile abdication from wedlock, from the start. His declaration of solidarity with the chip off the old block was a blow struck within that framing feud with his better half. And that was about shame, face, shamefacedness. It will take a showdown between the heads of house

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to shake down their blocked relationship. Seconds out. The feud materializes in physical struggle for control of power-as-money, but this can’t settle their marital feud. And the children are all grown up now. . . .

Is it about him? Him and her? Him & son? About them? Why choose? In American Beauty—

4

American Beauty 504–544 The Sex Slave holds out on Momma The One about the Asses began with unprecedented consonance between master and slave. Then it erupted in friction between manageress and client. It flipped the switch into comradely cooperation between slaves frustrated by resistance from the outsider. A mutiny now ensues, as another worm turns, caught in the toils of money, family, necessity. This time the protest is brief, almost as short as the plot. Embracing, in equal measure, the stigma of stubborn, helpless, renegade silence.1 Mother told daughter “no,” but this Jezebel’s a rebel (505, 509): You’re not minded of parting from mother’s command, are you that way? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . So, this is tending Devotion then: shrinking mother’s command?

There is no cushion from this iron lady (matris imperiis, matri imperium ~ imperium, 87, p. 126). But it goes in one ear and out the other. Her good little earner even dares put in her oar: if the whore stops sculling, “the whole of the household grinds to a halt on you,” mama. Up your creek (520). No. The child’s version of home economics founders in disparity (525): Seductive words are gold for you? Posh talk will do for fees?

Just the same as the son’s problem with gift and take—the other end of the stick: “not having the fees to match the talk” (dicta docta pro datis, 525 ~

155

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Commentary and Analysis

non suppetunt dictis data, 56). But this flash of defiance is over before . . . it’s begun: as her mum rubs in, she was already “barred from the one she loves,” that loverboy son, who could pay only in promises—“I’ll make sure you are rich if mummy, his mummy, dies” (promittat, 528–9)—and now even the moratorium on that is up.

We already met momma: the rod won’t spare this spoilt child (532–4): So, now. If he doesn’t fetch me 20 minae over here, cash, Our Lady, he’ll be shoved outa here, showering us with . . . tears. Out! This is the last day the “funds short” cop-out will run. Not in my place.

Now for Cinderella’s chance to dance. Between finance and fiancé. We must be ready to meet her favourite, and make up our own minds about the ?love? in this love-affair. The play winds all its agitations around Philaenium, but she is put at its disposal rather than handed her own crafted presentation of self: the experience of this “call-girl” stays discontinuous to the end, fragmented by the multiplicity of parts, as The Girl is called on to play in the colliding plots of the rest of the cast. She must act her way through alienated torment: forever taken for granted—marketed, parcelled out, swooned over, auctioned to the highest bidder or syndicate. We cannot begin to tell how she feels—when she takes on her clutch of boys, croons Tru Luv, lets fellow slaves One and Two, and their lordling and master, all slaver all over her, press the flesh, paw and drawl, let alone when, for the run-in, she finally joins in the general rush of jeers at the old fossil and tomfool (pp. 160–1, 163, 180–2, 229 n.9). “How [this] She feels” is all she means to her clients—unless her chosen dreamboat john (client-and-fantasy-escape from the backstreet?) means his (ten-a-penny? vaudeville? sempiternal?) pledges of “love.” Some body, not somebody—unless our production champions her resistance to victimage, and drools over her personhood, or respects her professional acumen.2 But, heck, Mother knows best: romance without finance is a nuisance. Second time around, the “interlude” at the brothel will link up with the family next door. Son and Daughter come out together, to meet the agents

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of Father & Son. They prequel the grand finale, where Pa will join in, and the link will feature . . . Ma.

Yes. There are the problems of ?love?. A prob for the Mr and Mrs, too. In amongst those of power, money, and parenting. Exclusive terms and conditions: tonight, this year, this life —with me and nobody else. No one. Maybe just one? And if she downs tools? And he won’t playball? Now for Argyrippus. Hi ho, $ilver.

5

Beating the System 545–590 We’re in the money . . . and We’re so pretty, o so pretty . . . 591–745 Lovers’ last gasp lament and Slaves riding high: Loverboy pays his dues For a second time, enter the brace of agents, in cahoots and on a roll (p. 146). In no time at all, they are back, One plus Two. First time around in the donkey derby, in sped Two, to share his (aural-verbal) booty (maximam praedam et triumphum, 269).1 So near yet so far. This time they are in tandem. They bring the (actual-virtual) booty. Courtesy of big master, who played along with Two’s imposture as agent Lizard. They will share the role of “courier,” conveying terms and conditions, tied to cash handover. Special delivery, to little master, from that close friend, soon coming too close for comfort. Let’s check it out. Mother’s agent, Lizard, failed to substitute for her: he lost his mask to his understudy, the stage-money income never incame into her coffers, and with it went missing the queen’s command of the castle. She doesn’t know it, but now she is on her own, and will have to deal in person. In person. As for son, his agents have been rustled away by his would-be special agent of a father, pulling strings behind-the-scenes for all he’s worth. Which is to say, still operating, despite himself, as the Demaenetus that the world knows (the one who “knows” why he carries the “knarled” stick,” of the senex, emblem of his authority: scio . . . me hunc scipionem contui, 124). For, come what may, the paterfamilias must be azygous, solo, cock of his roost: witness the real Courier, who refused all stand-ins, no matter which or whose, master’s or mistress’s. The commander is no underling domestic, but only as that Self can he commandeer the wife’s power. Finally on his own, in the finale. Fresh out of agents. Outed from playing son’s friend and agent, son’s rival and (anti-Oedipal) tormentor, his bid to ham a substitute 158

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identity by usurping son’s self will collapse in face-to-face confrontation by the Mrs. Before, he missed her, by streets. Then, Mr. must meet The Wife in person, and will have to deal with it. On his own, clapped out. Then only the audience can redeem Demaenetus. Ultimately, it’s in your hands: showdown at sundown (p. 215). Old master has played his part: his father had dressed up as a Ship’s Cap’n to pinch his son a woman from a pimp (69–70). Now that comic plot called life is doing the rounds again, another generation, another tour. “This touch gives one an odd view of life, that it is a series of comic plots strung together, so that . . . a given man will first be cast in the role of a comic son, and then in that of a comic father.”2 Our father has himself played along with the wheeze that his agent Two was his wife’s agent, Lizard, and relieved the Courier of the 20 minae (580–4).3 In the com-nick of time, as those aspiring tragicniks, Romeo-’n’-Julie-baby, stare curtains in the face (594): Your mother told me the day’s over. Ordered me: time I went home.4

Still wet behind the ears, a second regular at the motel here bites the dust; “shut right out” (exclusust foras, 596). The script steps aside for a liminal moment’s escape from the liminal moment’s doom, pumping up the farewell hug “from here to eternity” weepie highpoint of “see you in hell” melodramatics. . . . 5 The unbearably soppy tension builds under pressure from split-stage overhearing and overheard double dialogue.6 And that is what bursts the bubble it creates, too. With a “boom-boom” slave joke for openers—first in a lovely long line of groans (619–20): LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

Goo’day, master. Hey there now, is she smoke, this femme in your arms? Pardon me? Because . . .7

But, at the same time, the daft havering-wavering pause here actually serves to stuff us full of Plautine thematics (597–602): ARG LIB

I’ll stay the night, if you like. Get him! D’you hear how he’s showering out night shifts? So now

160

Commentary and Analysis he’s a workaholic Moses, no less, working the daytime through, the way he drafts conditions for the nation to keep. Cojones! Any persons gearing up to obey his conditions, for a fact, they shan’t ever do right, and round the clock, day ’n’ night . . . —shall get pissed.

This tosh fait un âne, it triggers the work of the hyped-up stage business that holds (up) the comedy.8 You see, the agents carry the cash. They learn where little master’s up to, all “’Cos I love her and she loves me, she does” (631–6, hanc . . . haec . . . huic):9 . . . her mother has chucked loverboy out of the house here. Me. 20 minae of cash have driven me all the way unto death. The 20 the boy Diabolus today told her he’d pay her, so she’d send her off nowhere but to him, for the whole of this year. You guys see what 20 minae got going? Their strength, their power.

The slaves begin at once to imagine what they could extort from Boy Meets Girl. She asks for all she gets, for triggering wish-fulfillment fantasy by hoping “The gods grant your wishes” (623). The slave’s strategy of rhetorical smuggling strikes again when they name that dream,10 and then fall straight into matey back-stabbing (cf. 42–3; 624–8): LIB>PH ARG>LIB LIB>ARG ARG>LIB LIB>ARG LEO>LIB

A night with you’d do me, darlin’—a jug of plonk, if my wishes came true. Mind, not a beep from you, boy to beat up on. I’m wishing for you not me. Then say on what you like, ad-lib. To whop him here a beating, lord. Who would ever credit it? That from you, you pansy with a perm. You? Dish out a beat-up, when taking a whopping fills your lunchbox?

This verbal spray of insubordination whips up all the fun of the unfair, as heralded at the off (uin erum deludi?, 646, “Fancy a laugh at master?”

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~ lepus ludusque in hac comoedia, | res ridicula est, 13–14, “wit, and fun in this comedy. This one’s a gas”). But as they demand slap and tickle foreplay with her, “with loverboy in attendance”—yes, present in person (647), and inflict degrading role reversal with him, they do more than take liberties. If wishes were horses (then slaves would ride). In a word—that word (671, imperat): What it takes—“needs must”—command away

For the nice slave’s nasty ride-a-cock-horse now brands sweet little master: this is his “baptism,” named ΔArguvr-ippo", “Cheval-Argent,” as the élite youth turned from future “knight” into élite beast of burden by the necessity of carrying off the loot he crawls to win: Argyrippus . . . argenti, 74–5, Argyrippo argenti, 364, Argyrippe . . . argentum, 732–3. He is elsewhere named twice as Philaenium’s special client (522, 542), hand-in-hand with her (753), once by Father (833), and once in the Pal’s prediction (917). Unattested in Greek culture,11 the name Argyrippus speaks out as loud as any Carry On or Life of Brian speaking moniker. The moment of his humiliation, his “passion,” simultaneously climaxes the tease and foreshadows what sour big master is going to do to him tonight when his playboy house-party (con-uiuium, 834) will commandeer the bunnygirl and make her boyfriend, looking daggers, sit up and beg (841: p. 212):12 ARG DEM

Ow, just watch me smile. I wish my ill-wishers . . . —would smile that smile.

The fun “fun” died after the doublet agents dropped playing dog gods— granting the boy his nirvana, “the handy 20 minae cash, so I can pay them her mother” (725; 731): That’s enough fun out of him, I propose.

Perfect timing, but here’s the rub (732–6): LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

. . . Your father ordered us to fetch this cash here to you. Great timing, spot on. You’ve fetched it right on the dot.

162 LIB>ARG

ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

Commentary and Analysis In here there’ll be 20 minae, good ’uns, we did bad to get ’em. He told us pay you them on fixed terms and conditions. What’s that, please? You pay him his fee: the night with her, plus party.

Like servants, like master. So son must sit and (with us) watch his best-friend father climb into his role, mess with his girl, Ms. Storyville (Filev-aijn~ o": p. 189), and insist on making it a threesome. Dear daddy bear’s already sneaked round into the wrong house, waiting for those lucky losers / unlucky lovers to join him, and party on. Someone’s going to eat someone’s porridge, sit in his chair, and a crowded bed awaits. High time the agents left us. The finale will be between the big guns. My pitch, however, is that our double agents’ Big Number is where Asinaria earns, and uses, its spurs. Accordingly, I give it the once over here—and come back for more in chapter 9. We come in at the double. Only our twin association of agents can list their citations—“roll-call-of-honour” and “dossier of criminal records” rolled into One plus Two (uirtutes = malefacta, 547, 556, 558 ~ 567). These upbeat brothers sing antiphonal pride. In rebel music self-portraiture, back-slapping slave-style. You name it, “we” have been there (548–51, 557): Us up against whips ’n’ branding-irons ’n’ crosses ’n’ shackles ’n’ fetters ’n’ chains ’n’ cells ’n’ hog-ties ’n’ legirons ’n’ collars. Plus those passionate daubers, with our back for intimate canvas, ?who have routinely inscribed for us scars on our shoulder blades? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What hero braver than I, for suffering blows?

The assortment of tortures in ascending order of hysteria piles in, leaving us with “16 strongmen: 8 heavy birchers, plus 8 equipped with flexi elm birches, reduced to so many zombies by tough-guy you (pendens aduersus . . . ualentis uirgatores, 564–5; uerberatus . . . , tua duritia . . . , ulmeis . . . lentis uirgis, 569, 574–5; cf. scapularum . . . ulmorum, 547). But on this occasion these stubborn critters aren’t here to suffer anything of the sort. Instead their assignment is to play fully endorsed “Courier(s)” and as such (we have just learned, the hard way, from them) they have the whip-hand. As their elelmentary jeering at the lover’s “Solonian” legislation for night

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life insisted (597–602), they are the ones (the One-Two) who are in a position to impose terms and conditions of their own, and this in and through the very act of delivering the terms and conditions mandated to them. (Told you there’s more to handing over money than handing over money: p. 145.) They will decide just how much suffering to inflict. For this scene, the pair of tantalized would-be recipients of the transfer will be at their mercy. For the moment, some of the power of all those paper noughts is at their command. And these assailants will talk the hind legs off a donkey, co-stars in “The One About The Assets.” No, master Master cannot have the money. His “agent” can. He can tell Ms mistress to ask nicely, so he must, and she must ((ex)orare, 662, 675 bis, 686, 687, 707, 740).13 They won’t let him load, they will let her implore. Moreover, lover will pay over the cash to beloved, so he is in fact her agent go-between, and she is in fact his little mistress, who can deliver the fee to big mistress, as her agent-and-courier, as the money finds its tortuous way to its destined home, in the mock materfamilias’ pocket, at her command. For this replay of the last scenario, then, the girl gets to compete with her other half. They audition for the roles of special agent One (soft-spoken Libanus, fragrant Frank Incense) and under-assistant agent Two (raw-tempered Leonida, Spartan Coeur de Lion, there starring as mock-Lizard, agent Three). And this is the comic prompt for the associative juggling of roles between our refined mentors in torture, too. First Two forces boy down on his knees and grabs girl in his arms (“You lug me by the lugholes,” 668, prehende auriculis).14 Then One—as boy pimps gal with “Sure, there’s none better than him, and no, he’s not a bit like this thief ” (= Two, 681: non similem furis huius)—takes his turn (“You must make me a crawling snake—give us a double two-forked tongue,” 695; uicissim, 682).15 Of course they are in it together, tweedling and needling the couple, “alike”:16 the question is (not), which is the courier, and which the sidekick? Who to turn to (669, 697; cf. in partem, 679): ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

Kiss you . . . , her, you whipping boy? So just how insulting did that look? . . . . . . . . . Hug you, executioner? Just how insulting do I look?

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Commentary and Analysis

’Dee put on his show; now ’Dum takes his thoroughbred for a ride. They are quits and we need to quit. (“Dusk” will descend upon us, soon Diabolus will spring the plot, our brevity will belie itself: conticinno, 685.) The satisfaction of devising satis-faction is a key challenge for any comic funday: the boy tried to call “Enough” (iam sat est, 707 ~ 446),17 “You two’ve had your fun,” and finally moves to stop them playing their victims off against each other by jointly addressing them (quoniam, ut est libitum, nos delusistis, 711 ~ 474: p. 151). As one, the two slaves respond by competing in hyperbole.18 One plays the god “Salvation,” so the other plays the rival attraction “Fortune In Your Favour.” This is the boy’s chance to regain control, and win by a neck. Pagan gods need worship and worshippers at their assizes. Pagan polytheism was neither henotheist nor monotheist, so you “can praise” one “deity without slating” a second (or at least you can tell yourself this, and try). Both can be “better” and “Both are good”—and, as always, both can prove it, by “bringing good”—and handing it over (718–9). So the trap is sprung. Godhead is the limit case of praise. You can’t blame Plautus for cashing in that running formula of blessed wishes. Gods grant prayers. Our t(w)in Santa Clauses One and Two will answer and respond “turn and turn about” (uicissim, 722), and that is the wish of young lovers and play lovers alike (720–2, 722–6): LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG LIB>ARG ARG LIB>ARG LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

opta id quod ut contingat tibi uis. quid si optaro? eueniet. opto annum hunc perpetuum mihi huius operas. impetrasti. ain uero? certe inquam. ad me adi uicissim atque experire. exopta id quod uis maxime tibi euenire. fiet. quid ego aliud exoptem nisi illud cuius inopiast, uiginti argenti commodas minas, huius quas dem matri. dabuntur, animo sis bono face, exoptata contingent. ~ Wish to get what you want. What if I do wish? Yes, it will come true.

Beating the System ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG LIB>ARG

ARG

LIB>ARG

165

I wish for her services through this whole year round. Look no farther. You don’t say? I certainly do. It’s my turn. Step up and try me. You wish hard that what you want most of all will come true. So be it. What else should I wish hard for? Gotta be where the dearth is complete: the handy 20 minae cash, so I can pay them her mother. Yes, they shall be paid, be of good cheer, your hard wishes shall come true.

So it is that two gods are assuaged for the price of one year with one girl. Such luck! But first, there is the small print to assimilate: one night, one party, to start the year, with Father playing Child to the Man. At the symposium, “wit and fun” will play, “for a gas,” a riot of ex-ploding naughtimess-morass-nausea-noise-nemesis-missus.

Open, sesamus.

6

Stick to the Script 746–809 Pal writes a contract for rival Loverboy 810–827 Loverboy’s Pal will snitch to Mother on his new rival: Father Once more in the play, someone just missed the wave, and must play catch-up. Diabolus the other (half of the) young lover (role) is too late. Ha! The play’s least favourite son, this earwig you mustn’t let burrow into your mind and laser the fun in you, has taken too long to write his own script, and now Asinaria has him beat. He brings an agent of his own, hustling to the stable-door and bustling away when the horse has already bolted. Just when the rest of the cast thought he’d beat them to it, he missed the boat. He doesn’t know how far we’ve come through the comedy, he’s still using an intermediary when the others have used theirs up, and the gloves are off. And reading off a contract between client and callgirl makes an obvious way to start a comedy.1 “Diabolus himself comes up with the next play (to tell Demaenetus’ wife, line 811), but the writing must be left to the parasite (820–27).”2 In the end, his Pal will try on another “contract,” for another day and another comedy. He would like to broker another way to fix the year: a 50/50 split, a trilateral bargain (915–18: p. 170). But this isn’t how they see the draft they think they are finalizing, to settle once for all (year) Who Gets the Girl. It’s meant to wrap it up (746–7, 749–50, 802, 809): DIAB

PAL DIAB DIAB

All right. Show us. The contract you’ve scripted, between me; playmate; madam. Rendition of conditions. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I’ll see madam shudder, when she hears the conditions. Action—Lord, a transmition for me. . . . . . . . . . . . . Lovely script from you. Real pro of a contract. 166

Stick to the Script

DIAB

. . . . . . . . . . . . Just love those conditions. Sure do.

167 .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

These smart asses, they’ve seen to all the ins and outs. Each and every last i and t are dotty and cross.3 In the line of duty, the draughtsman must mime banned mouthwork for our benefit (794–8, sic . . . , simulat, sic): “Coughing: if she happens to start, she shall not cough, such that in coughing so, she snakes out her tongue: at no one. Item: suppose she does ham up a snot-runny cold, she shall not make like this. You shall wipe her lip clean rather than she openly fakes a kiss: for no one.”

We’ll stitch up Mme Maman, with a penalty clause banning her from “joining in the wine” and using the rough edge of her tongue (“fine: 20 . . . —days off the booze”: 799–802). And we’ll stitch up Mlle Aimée, with a ratio (parity) of “as many filthy nights” with Diabolus “as nights she says she wants clean” (806–7). No hitches (752–5): PAL

DIAB PAL DIAB

“Mme gets the fee of 20 minae, cash, for Ms Storyville to be with him both night and day this year’s duration—.” “—And with no one else, either.” Stick that in? Yes, stick it in. See your script is clean and clear.

No glitches, either, in case she gets wise and plays the system against itself (786–90, ne . . . commoveat → moueri): DIAB PAL

I don’t want her having a prop, and saying she’s barred. I know: frightened of quibbles.

A n-n-nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse (784, nutet, nictet, adnuat). No quibbles. Puns verboten. Tricks proscribed. Etc., Etc., Etc. “The parasite and Diabolus [are] as much the enemies of ludus as any agelastic senex. Note that Diabolus is also afraid of the power of other poets/artists. He particularly fears writing and painting” (761–4).4 He fears that the courtesan will

168

Commentary and Analysis

behave as a courtesan must, playing men off against each other in all the ageold ways specified in the contract: in her element, as party-girl. She fakes, just like a woman, in the very next scene.5 Odd-man-out Diabolus (first named at 634) has sleepwalked his simple path thus far. Now he finds he is in Plautus’ farce, and plenty of company. Straight back out of the brothel he bursts. Second time around. Now, though, Madame is nowhere. So—at (the) last—bring on Mrs Mum, to fill her boots. Tell on pater. Use agent—leave Pal—to finger the old man, and play Diabolus’ advocate. For this is the baptismal moment for the dullard Rival: oJ diabavllwn tells us, he’s “The Snitch,” not the amator. His role was to obstruct and hinder. Now he unblocks and effects the dénouement. He does wind up writing the script. One second he was winding us up, then out he pops from the brothel, and in a flash Asinaria is done and dusted, and the Pal’s agent will get the play wound up. He plays Father’s nemesis on behalf of his alter ego, the Son, takes the revenge that the Boy won’t (get to) dare for himself.

All that’s needed is a knock on Mother’s door. Then there’ll be “trouble and strife” (824, turbas, litis), what boils up, here on stage, into a “battle” royal, way beyond “strife” (912, hoc gliscit proelium, 914, hi dum litigant). A Final Act (it brags) to die for: Dad’s comedy goose is well and truly cooked (935).6

To come together, fall apart. Nothing is revealed.

7

Rotten Rhetorics 828–850 Dad’s party swings 851–941 Mum fetches him home The girl’s parent had expelled her “lover,” then mama expelled her lover— the trick she loves and who loves her. That good child was a good(time) girl scolded. Now the boy’s parent has bought his way inside those same coin-operated doors, and means to impale him with the sight and sound of him sharing a couch with the hustler he loves and who loves him. This good child is a good lad scolded: he too must grin and bear it, some more—love his “friend” of a father, and smile through the hours to countdown (847–8):1 You’ll endure this one single day through. Because I’ve handed you power to be with her for a year, I’ve come up with cash to fund loverboy.

The son’s papa-enforced pietas matches in detail the mama-extracted pietas of Philaenium (“Devotion”: 831 ~ 506, 509). Even his forced smile-throughgritted teeth humanizes the brothel: “walls had smiles,” never mind ears, back when it was fed money (207, tum mi aedes quoque arridebant). What comes of a father favouring his darling son. Empathizing has turned out worse than oppression. Worse than any tantalizing tortures dreamed up by those fly slaves to work their cash-machine. “Bound . . . fast,” indeed (me . . . tibi deuinxti, 849+850: cf. pp. 146–7). For the boy, relief is not at hand. The evening breaks up in a confusion of tongues, a morass of split-stage double dialogues,2 as matron watches askance and hears husband torment naughty son, cheat on her, promise to rob her wardrobe to keep the lap-dancer sweet, wish wife dead—and soon too—, and answer son’s question—“Pa, do you love ma?”—with “What, her?

169

170

Commentary and Analysis

Me? I love her right now. For . . . — not being here.” Compounded with the reply to “How ’bout when she’s here?”: “I long for her—dead” (899–901). She is, of course, here, to hear jack make an ass of her. And so this will cost him. “With interest” (902). His life (910–11: salue-salutis-mortuus). Payback time sees a welter of tit-for-tat spite as mum chases dad off home, leaving boy and girl to head back inside. For now. (As they say, it’s not a house, it’s a home.) Maybe our applause can stop dad’s drubbing dinning in our ears, but restoration of “parity” is in the offing for the lovers, anyhow. Down to earth with a bump—“mañana,” as Pal dangles another twist of the knife (915–18): . . . I’ll bring Diabolus to the manageress, with 20 minae to pay, so monopolizing her will be on for him, in part. Argyrippus will be biddable, I hope, agree to share with him, enjoy her alternate nights with Diabolus.

Once Father-who-would-be(friend)-Son butts out / is butted out, there will be just two lover-boys to fight for the one . . . part. Would they mind teaming up, 50/50, like those winsome slaves, One and Two? (916, in partem: p. 143) This conciliation will only mean getting real and formalizing the triangular situation that obtained when we came in . . . So reads the plotus. But fine-tuning in sextalk and violence is the linguistic bearer of the “play” that opens up within the characterology of Asinaria. Its madam is “mother” (or mother) and owner of meretrix (lena, era, 147: p. 127). But the girl is and is not, amatrix, and her favourite adulescens is either her love or her living, or he is both. This son may just be making the old old mistake of “first love,” immaturely falling for the call-girl and calling this phase “love” (he is). And he may be put in the impossible position of his father’s compulsory voyeur so we can mock-drool at the limits of “sophisticated” elasticity in interpersonal relations (we will). In any case, the “affair” is made to keep us guessing, wondering where to put ourselves and what we think of the play’s director (when that role, trust me, is ours). Similarly, we know that matrona is an uxor dotata (898: wife on the warpath tells us she is, p. 181), and paterfamilias a decrepitus senex (863), and ultimately the cuculus in the love-nest (923, 934).3 But is she a “shrew” or “witch” or “hag,” or a woman who loves her man? Shall we join in with the

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baiting? “Demaenetus is not in a position to grant his son the money, for it is his well-endowed wife—this expression is meant in the literal sense— who controls the purse strings.”4 Does “the promise of slapstick comedy embodied in Artemona’s matrona mask rescue for comedy a scene that has veered dangerously near the tragic”?5 The dramatic point is—how true do you want to make it? If, “in her case, too, there is no portrayal of pain or spiritual anguish,”6 then what is the point of the mocking snitch twisting the knife the way he does? (856–7, 858–9):7 MRS

PAL

I had always thought he was a good guy—best of the lot—and loved his wife. ~ Now you must know he’s a bad guy—worst in the pot—and loathed his wife.

Likewise, I’m sure. Is her husband a “wally” who tries his hand at masterminding a personal triumph at everyone else’s expense, a “nut” who thinks you can mess around with second childhood without getting everyone’s fingers burned, a “git” who can’t handle having a girl in his lap any more than the next spectator could, or is this a “bloke” going through his late middle-age crisis? (pp. 129–30)8 Are they stuck with a problem neither they nor anyone else can handle? What is this fun making fun of, and with? How much is written into the script, pinned to the tale, and how much is up for grabs, between cast and producers and audience? A good deal of the play foregrounds getting the language right, as the cast tell us they are trying to find the right words and get the words right. Neither attending fornication class nor drafting a formal contract will do it for Diabolus (222–5; 751–808), whereas improvisatory sleight of tongue works a treat for agent One: “I meant your wife’s death, not yours” (43); and for agent Two: “How much do you reckon you weigh stripped?— I dunno.—I knew you didn’t know, but I know, because . . .” (299–300).9 These two can’t help it: it starts off a simple dialogue ploy for gaining the upper hand, so that slave is plain incapable of telling master “yes, you’re right” without an instant comeback (54–6): DEM LIB

Is it as I say, Libanus? You’re on the right track.

172

DEM LIB

Commentary and Analysis That’s it. But a pox has gone for him, something chronic. What pox is that? Not having the fees to match the talk.

But, as in a real farce, outside theatre, it all winds up just as complex a stew of cannibalized rhetorics as the old stager Flatfoot (“Plautus”) could make it: “soap,” as we say.10 Where we came in was pressurizing master to tell no lies—not to get close enough to the [m✴✴l] and its [w✴✴ps] even to speak the words (16–30; 31–38: p. 132).11 Madam then comes on as an impress of language: first rule for tinsel-town Bordelloville is that in her line of show biz clients’ abuse is gold dust; second fact is, their threats are so many tongues wagging (153–5; 162).12 She tells true with wordy—generic—lectures cooked up on fish and fowl (178–80;13 215–2514), outrageously encrypting the play in paragrammatism, and telling us so, into the bargain: uel patinarium uel assum, uerses quo pacto libet (180: listen!). She acts out the young pup’s antics, studiously souping up the amator dramatics of bawdeville ecstasy (181–5, studet → his charge, 210, meo de studio studia erant uestra omnia).15 She painfully puns (illicit use of lingo) lectus illex (221),16 and assiduously assonates oratione uinnula uenustula (223: uinnulus a{pax).17 It is all one flurried flourish of specialized power-knowledge (disciplina, 201),18 and her unworthy pupil has lots left to learn, and not forget: non tu scis? . . . perdidici istaec esse uera (177 ringed with 187) ~ non tu scis? . . . haecine te esse oblitum, in ludo qui fuisti tam diu? . . . discipulum semidoctum (215 ringed with 226–7). She comes up with a prize verb. sap. (a word to the wise), on market terms and conditions for the down and out. As follows (203): uetus est: “nihili coactiost”—scis cuius. non dico amplius ~ Old’s th’ills: “Credit limit zero”—you know who gets that—say no more.

“A different rhetoric,” observes the victim, who must supply the missing word, (the word for his own powerlessness) (204), before he mortgages himself into blank debt, money or his life (nisi illud perdo argentum, pere-

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undum est mihi, 244, cf. 637, qui non perdo pereo). Shut out; shut mouth; shut down: “shut doors” (241–2).19 The cultural pragmatics of slave subjects take over the balance of the play. One stages a nifty show of his credentials as Cunning Slave, putting the mockers on his own prospects. His first words send his own sense of self-importance up, as a triple rhyming take, of ascending length, metrical virtuosity, and stylistic level, turns the heat on . . . himself (258): unde sumam? + quem intervertam? + quo hanc celocem conferam? ~ Where’ll I take it from? Who’ll I send the wrong way? Where’ll I . . . point my yacht?

Quick as any (word for) yacht (i.e., speedboat: celox = uelox in Plautin), Brains is there in a flash. For those who can read the signs, there are signs everywhere. They are clearcut, solid (plain, spondaic, unresolved verses), first giving a green light any which way Libanus likes, ad lib., with unanimous consensus on all sides, optimum conditions for counsel from any council (259–61): impet - ritum in - augur - atum est: = quouis - admit - tunt a - ues + picus - et cor - nix ab - laeua, = coruus - parra ab - dexter - a + consua - dent. certum - hercle est - uestram con - sequi sen - tenti - am.

Too good to be true? His next word just has to be “But . . .” (sed, 262), and his last words will foretell truly that they foretell “ob-struction” (obscaeuauit meae falsae fallaciae, 266 ~ fingere fallaciam, 250: p. 190). As Brains guesses, this play isn’t big enough for the both of them (himself and Steward: 264), and worse still, his own yacht (part) has been scuppered, cut from the script. In the meantime, he takes a bow. With a cameo to rethink the power-pack of Roman augury, first trusting the birds to shape his planning,20 “but” then at once seizing on the elm tree tap-tap-tapped by the woodpecker for his master sign:21 for this interpreter, “elm” spells “canes,” just the way “birch” spelled “cane” in not so long obsolete English English (259–64, cf. 315, and p. 222 n.28). Enter Two, toting his verbal “booty”—the chance to turn words into a syndicated

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cash prize (269–71, 294). His breathlessness makes him a stern challenge to One’s power to read signs: “Must’ve burgled a house, if acting in character” (272). “Spoke the word ‘bound’—‘bound fast by our good turn’, but, all the same, ugh: ‘bound’” (nostro deuincti beneficio.—“uinctos” nescioquos ait: | non placet, 285–6). Looks for “a partner in crime”— ugh—it’s an instant omen when someone “shivers in a sweat” (a second time, | non placet, 288–9). A rap—rat-a-tat-tat of tit-for-tat flyting in slave Latin from the tortureblock—yokes the team (296–307: uerbiuelitatio, p. 147). Beyond in-group insults, it featured a riddling sport with the knowledge of ignorance, for joker and straightman sidekick (299–305): LEO

quot pondo ted esse censes nudum?

LIB

non edepol scio. scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: nudus uinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. quo argumento istuc? ego dicam quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando alligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes—quin malum nequamque sis. ~ How many pounds ya think ya weigh in ya skin? —Shucks I dunno. I knew ya don’ know, but sure I do ’cos I’m the one that weighed ya. In ya skin and bound you are way up at 100 pounds, weighed by feet. How d’you work that out? —I’ll tell ya on what basis how it works out. Once a fair level 100-pounder has been strung up tight to the feet when the ’andcuffs hug ya ’ands in their clasp pulled up right to the beam, ya ain’t way over, ya ain’t way under . . . bein’ a no-good thug.

LEO LIB LEO

LEO LIB LEO

LIB LEO

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Way beyond the reach of civility, this multiple assonance verges ponderously on sense before tipping over thunderously into—horrendously bathetic nonsense.22 The correct response to this just has to be monosyllabic: “Up yours,” and the impressive reflex: “That’s your legacy from Mme Slavery” achieves closure in parity: a draw with honours even (306: uae tibi). When the courier arrives, One perplexes him by answering the door before it is knocked (382–91). He “knows” all about (not just the sale of asses, but) the Courier’s mission. The other thinks he’ll “know,” from One’s description of “Lizard,” if the “Lizard” he met was Lizard (scio, 398; iam scire potero, 399). Enter Two-as-Lizard, as arranged, and we are treated to the underlings’ version of what a vicious slave overseer feels like from where they stand. Their ask is to show the bullying sadism only too convincingly to the free neutral: he is appalled. Yet from a managerial viewpoint, it’s plain to see, as well, that this maniac is setting the staff demanding standards, applying himself energetically to painstaking vigilance down to the very last detail: kicking ass, “this repulsive, nauseating, stuff ” (iam hic me abegerit odio suo, 446: p. 181). So the slaves run smack into the mailman’s special delivery mentality: he knows he will never accept any assurances as “knowledge.” “He’ll never hand his parcel to anyone problematic” (nouit . . . sciat ~ non noui. ~ nosce sane. | ~ sit, non sit, non edepol scio . . . ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini, 455, 456; 464–6). This draws the heat onto the Courier, but he won’t be faced down, and the ploy of forcing One to insult him actually alienates him from the plaguey pair of ’em (473, malum hercle uobis quaeritis).23 They reassess the situation, and decide it’s as well to call it quits—“We’re all of us human.” “Agreed . . . But I don’t know you, and an unknown human is a wolfman, there’s no knowing.” “I knew you’d . . . apologize. . . . I know you would if you could” (490–503, scilicet; ignoto . . . non nouit ~ scibam . . . scio pol crederes). Stalemate (503, haud negassim, the Courier’s last assinarian word: “no.” p. 209). For interlude, madam tries to overpower her recalcitrant moneyspinner by browbeating and pulling rank. This Academy is alma mater for Whores (praecipis . . . praeceptis, 507–8: pp. 150, 179). But this pupil of hers has learned rhetoric by plying her profession, and counterattacks (dicacula . . . amatrix → accusatrix, 511, 513). Mother demands her right to reply, and turns scold, summoning up the rhetoric of invective (pars orationis, 516–18; 521–34). Daughter has surrendered, pretends to seek counsel, before a final

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appeal (mone . . . , sine me, 537, 542). But mother understands that she’s not even pretending she isn’t acting submission, but rather she’s smuggling in a protest, delivering an unspoken ultimatum, and mutely telling her mind(er)-controller where to get off: this is “impudence” passed off as “obedience” (543–4).24 The tussle of wills makes for a gripping sketch of civil oratory slumming it; but the clash is also a clash with the slaves’ sparring sessions that it divides. It all makes for a sandwich of acting, interacting and overacting.25 Now the agents have their head: now they have the bread. In a matching riot of ebullient lists and repetitions (esp. ubi . . . clauses: 561–4: ⫻ 6; 568–74: ⫻ 8),26 bogeys and fantasias, their triumphant duet mixes up the Roman empire with the Roman vampire. As one, the pair spoil high-andmighty heroism with celebration of their own murderous tolerance of pain and terror. Their lives are no better than the fate of captured enemies of the state: so much for their recognition as fellow human beings, let alone equals, indispensables, or even superiors, as and when it suits unseated master, his immature son, or visiting stranger. Owed to joy, the travesty hymn starts by dedicating its savvy self to lying propaganda in its own idiom (Perfidiae laudes . . . , 545, another pretend deity, trumping master’s first words, per Dium Fidium, 23: p. 225 n.15). It ends by slapping itself on the back (try it), for this has been a quintessential performance of the real spirit, not the fictive elation, of Slavery (577): How apt for you and me both, couldn’t be better. Just the ticket for our talent.

The slaves’ fun-packed campaign of revenge on the young master is at hand. As it begins, they are set free to comment on the lover’s discourse with impunity, for in theatre asides get no comeback. As soon as dammit, Two comes up with a brash assertion that money doesn’t talk, it swears. Taking a leaf out of his own creation, the mock-Steward’s book (418, pp. 193–4), he underlines, once for all, that in this (word)play the brass— the ass—brays loudest (588–90): LEO LIB LEO

. . . attatae, modo hercle in mentem uenit, nimis uellem habere perticam. quoi rei? qui uerberarem

Rotten Rhetorics

LEO

LIB LEO

177

asinos, si forte occeperint clamare hinc ex crumina. ~ . . . Ooh-la-la. Just popped in my head, lord, I really do wish I had a pole. Oh yeah, and what for? To beat up on the asses, happen they start yelling from the money pouch here.

Now the metaphor’s out of the bag. Cash it if you can. The doves come out to bill for their one last time and to coo doublesuicidally, as the accompanying sound-track of sarcastic commentary pauses for the cameo: asses to asses (598–602; 606–15). First reaction is to give pity—second is, the offer is withdrawn: “Highly-strung lovers are beaten hollow by slaves strung high. This they know—they’ve been there” (616–17). Not before time, the dare-devils burst their bubble, and join the crowd: four’s company. At once, they burst the sweethearts’ bubble, and ruin the mood. They enforce comedy (619–20): LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ere, salue. sed num fumus est haec mulier quam amplexare? quidum? Quia oculi sunt tibi lacrimantes, eo rogaui. ~ Goo-day, master. Hey there now, is she smoke, this woman in your arms? Pardon me? Because your eyes they are watering. Hence my question.

The guying starts right away: first him, then her (621–2, perdidistis ~ perdidi; 623–4, uelitis ~ uelim): ARG>LIB+LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LIB+LEO LIB>PH

“You’ve lost—” “You can’t lose what you never had.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “The gods grant your wishes” “A night with you’d do me, darlin’, a jug of plonk, if my wishes came true”

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Commentary and Analysis

The word draws blood; is retracted; and the sword turned aside to internecine laconic laceration (625–8, uerbero ~ uerberare ~ uerberes . . . uerberari): ARG>LIB LIB>ARG ARG>LIB LIB>ARG LEO>LIB

Mind, not a beep from you, boy to beat up on. I’m wishing for you not me. Then say on what you like, ad-lib. To whop him here a beating, lord. Who would ever credit it? That from you, you pansy with a perm. You? Dish out a beat-up, when taking a whopping fills your lunchbox?

By-play where slave-drubbing merges in punning innuendo with sexbanging, for uerbero as noun/verb indicates either active or passive role in both these forms of whopping assault: “Ass-whipped”/“I whip ass, beat up on.” 27 Then the boy’s attempt to advise the agents is ceremoniously put down with a thud (641): Master. You should know not everything’s just as sweet to everyone.

As it appears, these grown men know about lovers; as far as you can tell, lovers don’t know about anything. “So you do what you advise us to do.” Leave the talking to us (644, suauia . . . suaue . . . , suades). Here the firm determines to twit (torment) their better, not elder. Their victim(s) must try to outslave slaves, to slaves, in slavering lip-salve (her), as well as slobbering lip-servility (him). Until they are brought to their knees, and have plain had enough. As we know, these hardmen are(n’t) kidding. They systematically take apart the superiority complexes of social standing, as far as possible utilizing irreducibly basic choreographies of bodily subjection. Kowtowing, bended knees, rough ride, and genuflexion. As they make master crawl, they whip his ass, until dobbin can’t hack it.28 Only when despair sets in, from “head to foot” (from start to finish of the scene), do they relent (728–30): LEO LIB>ARG

I was head of today’s gold strike. I was foot.

Rotten Rhetorics ARG

179

How come both head and foot of Act Three are lost from sight? I can’t understand what you’re saying, I can’t know why you’re playing.

As comic luck would have it, however, their worst trick comes when they stop playing tricks. Now we see that they were understudying Big Master when they hammed up that wish for “a night with you . . . , darlin’, and a jug of plonk” (624). For they came in knowing at the “head” of the Act what none of us could. (Don’t shoot the messenger.) At its “foot” here, we find that Big Master’s terms and conditions are what you might expect from a guttersnipe slave (736): “the night with her, and throw in a party.” The twist, of course, is that this is pater getting as far inside his son’s skin as he can. So the agents holding his carrier-bag were actually out there, before Little Master, taking off Big Master taking off Little Master, all too close to the life and the bone. In return, we are bound to find that, as rejuvenated lover, father will put on a better imitation of his comic slaves’ imitation of himself than of his boy’s performance as juvenile lead. Manewhile, out comes the alternative juvenile lead for his moment in the spotlight. Diabolus is funny because he refuses to be anything of the sort. He knows every nook and cranny of the ars amatoria,29 and in commandeering pleasure erases it. He comes on stage with the script, turns performance into reading-over, writes in a last-minute “insertion” of one more “exclusion” and an eleventh-hour “deletion” of a “prohibition” (754–5; 787–91). He brings contract backed by cash, trumping Madame at her own game, of scheduling the traffic in sex with The Babe (504–8, interdictis . . . praeceptis, 522–3, uetui . . . | compellare ait contrectare, colloquiue aut contui, 536, non ueto, 544, dicto: 747, leges pellege, 749, 809, leges ~ lege, 166, 231, 234, leges meas, 239, legem: the play’s own contract.30 Cf. Argyrippus’ leges, 600–01, and licessit, 603; Demaenetus’ legibus, 735). But . . . Straight in he goes . . . And straight out he comes. In a trice, what a turnaround (809–10, sequere intro.—sequor.—sequere hac). His “poet” (748), the “Pal” who drafted this legalese verse (it is verse— in Plautus’ script), had been nailing all of us with his tangle of tedium.31 So the bores held up the play, and as a result damned up momentum for when the floodgates are to burst open wide, and grant us all relief (release . . . ,

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Commentary and Analysis

relapse . . .). As he leaves, Diabolus the angry young man lets his agent take over (ne mone, | ego istud curabo, 826–7), for their snitching will release matron’s tsunami of wrath. Here at last the debauchery we’ve been waiting for comes out into view, disgorging the inside story—mythical Roman orgy, for three: “bodies adjacent, his and hers, lolling on the dining divan” (831, 833, haec nunc mecum accubat, tecum accubat; 843, 845, istaec est tecum; aliam tecum esse). Watch the spoilsport show us the matrona watching the paterfamilias hard at it ogling and canoodling—will she accept the evidence of her eyes? The pillar of society a faceless rutting satyr—beyond the pale, beyond recognition (879, accubantem, amplexum): You could, I suppose, happen you catch sight of your husband installed with crown, hugging playmate, if you saw him . . . —could you tell it is him?

The live-sex-peep-show starts from the promised clinch of “hugging” getting out of control (882, quid modi . . . amplexando), and moves straight to hardcore oral gluttony, with booze plied from the son’s side, to right, and the girl’s side serving up simultaneously, from left field, “sweet, sweet kisses . . . breath to die for.” Some turn-on for the wife, instantly hot to land killer kisses of her own . . . ! (891–5, 903, sauium . . . suauiorem; osculatur; oscularier; osculando; cf. 940. sauium) Funny thing, sex in marriage. (Perish the thought, good folk in the audience.) But this is a family show. In front of the children. At his benefactor’s party, son must (not) knuckle under. He acts letting it show that he’s trying not to let it show, but of course he is trying to do just that. Just the way that the girl put up resistance to her parent’s pressures. Except that she was pleading for just a window for love, whereas he is not pleading for anything, because that is the term-and-condition for him to be in a position to buy that very window. He just has to get through tonight, as agreed, and they’ll win a year’s uninterrupted bliss for two. The play between politesse and repression hits the heights here, as son kisses ass in the very act of laying bare the dynamics of the present love-triangle (842–5): Certainly, I know why it is, Father, you credit me blue over you: ’cos she is with you. And yes, too, shucks, tell you the godhonest truth, Father,

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this scene hurts me bad. No, not that I’m not passionate for you, all you want, but I love her.

As anticipated, this puts dad in a tight spot, as his ugliness is flushed out for all to see (846): at ego hanc uolo. ~ Well, I want her, I do.

Specifically, the ugliness is flushed out for matrona to see. This is her cue to enter, and re-think, coached by the informer, who is no way lying, he knows her husband’s wickedness, and plays himself appalled by the exposée ( filio sciente; accreduas; mendacem; rata; scito; uera; ratus; uerum hoc facto sese ostendit, 853–63). He knows she’ll make her husband’s life a fatal misery, sure as eggs, and knows how to poison her mind still more with a spray of denunciations (ego istuc scio; 869, censen tu illum hodie primum . . . ?, 887). This is no time to develop any sort of characterological dimension, as the finale carves up the niceties, the roles shear off in their several directions, and the cast lob at each other fragments of used script. When Demaenetus makes one more “promise,” to “steal from the wife” for another young lovebird, “on his wife’s death within the year” (promisit, 930 = 884–6; cf. 939; and 901, 905), we have heard it all before (promitto, 97; uxorem . . . circumduce, aufer, 96; usque ad mortem—uxoris, 42–3). Master is now the one reviled as in areas of the play where slave abuse has bandied the insult “Executioner!” around (il)liberally (carnufex, 892 ~ 482, 697). “Kissing” and “cursing” cross swords again (892–903, 940 ~ 669, 687, 697). Ditto, “Do not mess with a dowried wife” (898 ~ 85, 87). The fun will cost plenty—“with interest” (902 ~ 248). Now She “can’t endure it” (907: pp. 147, 195). He has “killed the girl with distaste,” where once the agents “repulsed the courier with distaste” (odio: 921, cf. 927 ~ 446). He “divines right,” where once one slave “divined” to another (hariolare: 924 ~ 579, cf. 316), and wants her to “huddle—over there” (abscede paululum istuc, 925, cf. 939 ~ secede huc . . . , concedite huc, 639, 646), before he is reduced to “beseeching” the Fury (obsecro, 926: last

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not least of these in line: p. 134). He is the “cuckoo in the nest” (923, 934, cubat cuculus, cuculum . . . , male cubandum ~ birds hunted [215–16, 881] or portentous [259–63], and lovebirds [666, 693–4]). “Is it right for a father to shower those mores on son?”—as he’d heralded (932 ~ “I am resolved to follow those mores of my father,” 73; largirier, 932: largus, 533, 598). His last words turn abuse on the slave-girl: “Climb a cross” (i in crucem, 940 ~ cruces, 548). Mumma’s “good boy” sucks up to her (931): his last words (lies) are an “I told you so” (938, dicebam, pater, tibi . . .): I told you, dad, not to go against mum.

Five used characters in search of another author have done their Plautin best to mix up so many strands of comic-civic discourse, in a welter of paltry re-cycled slivers: ensemble.32 First the avengers spy on the revels, overhearing a nightmare of “distaff distaste” from matron’s old man (osorem uxoris, 859: pp. 171, 222 n.31), until he backs the wrong horse by betting with the girl’s lovely name for good luck—and she bursts in (905–6; 907). The snitch cleans up the plot and clears off; the witch harries the cuckoo from the nest; she fetches along the right formulaic verse refrain, so we can all help stow the toys back in the box for another day (921–5, 210): surge, ămator, i dŏmum. |

The unanswerable shooing of anything any male might try to say in the first half of any trochaic septenarius (p. 119). More conclusive a tag to join in with than any “Look behind you!” in any panto of ours. To give themselves an out, too, the girl fires a couple of gibes at the old boy’s back, then takes her boy and the play on home. Yes, this party’s over.33 Take a bow, everybody. How good was that?

Say no more. Applaud us.

8

“It’s a gas” Space, Movement, Verse

A Plautus play works a helical pattern of spatial and metrical dynamics, its verse spins to-and-fro between the two stage-doors (metre: pp. 117–20). That’s why they are there (pp. 134–5, 136). Now we have read through Asinaria, I shall focus directly on its stagecraft and stunt values.1

Key A

B C

the “family” household Demaenetus, Artemona, and Argyrippus, Libanus, Leonida, Saurea, and all Madam’s house Cleareta, and Philaenium the Rival and his crew (his home is off-stage: 827) Diabolus, and his Pal

A1: conversational senarii, 16–126, continuing those of Prologue, 1–15: Father and One came out of their place and headed for the mall. Intimate conversation threads intricately through and between verses. This acts out rapport.2 We’ll meet again, but they won’t. Not where we can watch them at it. C1/B1: singing cretic tetrameters, 127–37 (overreaching half-way into one parodic excrescence, 133, the choriambic tetrameter [with ionic a minore third limb]: pp. 120, 224 n.9).3 Then stand-off wrangling in Plautus’ most common metrical form, lively recitative trochaic septenarii, 138–248:

183

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Commentary and Analysis

That (d)ejected lover will join the men’s club at the mall, to beg or borrow; madam pops in and out of her house. Both will be back. But the anticipated re-match will not come off. A2: the trochaic septenarii carry on, 249–380. Broken by the arrival of the man with the money: iambic septenarii from 381–503: The One comes from the wings, joined (hotfoot from the mall) by the Two, who will copy One’s round-trip to the mall and back, before Courier arrives from the mall, and the trio eventually leave together for, yes, another visit for each of the three of them to the mall. When One sent Two off to tell master about the courier, Two dashed there-and-back in a trice before reappearing as himself-playing-Lizard-looking just-like-Two (367, 379–80 ~ 403–7). One guessed, more prophetically than he can know, that Two “must’ve burgled a house, as is his way, and woe betide the guy that got so casual about watching the door” (272–3). No house-door turned a hinge here, since One “saved his mate the door from a beating,” to spare Courier the trouble of knocking (382–91). Lizard, “Three,” runs the household rota, as mama’s atriensis, so his impostor Two berates One for neglecting chores around their portals (424–6). One and all needed Demaenetus, and he, mind, is in the mall. The walk-on part of Courier will have done with it there, and b. off. B2: more trochaic septenarii for Madam’s second scene, continued from B1: 504–44: This repeats the mood of Madam’s first cameo, except that she emerges from her house in company, and, instead of ejecting her inmate, comes to tell her she will be ejecting a second gigolo strapped for cash. She binds her verbally, hand and foot, and leads them both straight back, together physically if not by mutual consent, into their house. Madam will not reappear. A3/B3: more iambic septenarii for the slaves’ second big scene, 545–584 + 585–745: This is a repeat from A1, in that One and Two come on simultaneously, very much together, like Master and One. Only they come from the mall (as they did in A2, except that then they arrived separately, but left very much together). Eventually they disappear into their house. And they will not reappear.

“It’s a gas”: Space, Movement, Verse

185

B3/A3: neither mood nor metre is broken by the arrival of the kids without the money, for all the pathos-bathos of their duet with voice-over (591–5, 596–7, 606–615: 585–745): One and Two are joined again. Only, not by that rock, the Courier, but by those all unknowing mugs, the play’s Son and Daughter. The audience-on-stage first overhears, and then hears, that a second loverboy is a “chuck-out” (594–6, domum ire iussit; hinc exclusust foras; 632, hinc me amantem ex aedibus eiecit huius mater). So for a third time, those brothel doors have swung open to let out a pair of inmates; and expelled their second ejected client (as in B1). Only, this one will be reprieved, and he will go back where he came from, together with the daughter, who will go back inside again, bound fast to her companion (as in B2). Only, this time, about as together as you can get. They still have it all to play for. C2: prosaic halting senarii for the rival and his simpering pal, attempting to re-start the play, only this time directing it their (negative, unfunny) way; these two are so dull, dull, dull, that there is no differentiation by change of metre from their double act as chartered accountants, to their reappearance, agitato and masterful, respectively: 746–809 + 810–827: Diabolus the rival loverboy brings on his Pal plus that proposed contract (238–40: p. 141). Which naturally controls rights of access in terms of “lock and key to the door / girl” (759–60, fores occlusae omnibus sint nisi tibi. | in foribus scribat occupatam esse se). They are in pushy mood; they bring their terms and conditions; they must have raised the 20 minae, somehow, at the mall (245–8: pp. 141–2). So it is in line with madam’s terms and conditions for the behaviour of her door (it opens to Greeks bearing gifts) when the pair simply walk right through it without standing on ceremony, or knocking. Tumbling straight back out again (810–827), they split up, the pal to do the snitching, Diabolus disappearing off home (for good). No music for these anti-comic villains, still (we just said), even though they’ve stopped reading the dry-as-dust contrick (Moore (1998) 250–1). A3/B4/C3: after two more senarii of preparatory directions to seat and settle the party, 828–9, Father has his brief moment on top, as he tortures Son, in the play’s only iambic octonarii, 830–50. These longer lines are great for quickfire dialogue interchange, which calls for precision timing

186

Commentary and Analysis

around the full Roman cast (pp. 170, 182, 230 n.2). This is broken by the arrival of matrona, bringing more trochaic septenarii to join those of both madam’s scenes, so as to dominate proceedings to curtain-fall, 851–941; for they even run on through the extra- or para-dramatic Epilogue from the cast, 942–7. The Pal must’ve pushed straight into his second house in a row. He went to fetch matrona; he fetches her out to spy on the scene next door. Job done, he will slip away, go join Diabolus, with a compromise plan for consolation. This mother is on a round-trip, and will return home, but with husband in tow. Forcibly leading, not led, (un)together, and bound fast for eternal, adamantine, conjugality. Meantime, Son and Daughter double-act exit and reenter, for the second time, at her place, together as anyone can possibly get. Only, still with it all to do, and no time to do it. Fresh out of plot.

Such are the directions for traffic through Asinaria. Two trajectories, however, are outstanding, and they stick out. One of them is more than filled in, the other one is much more of a blank. Let’s see if Plautus messes this up (= “LISTEN!”): (1) We know the astounding sight that awaits matron at hers next door. She both pays a visit and does not. She marches over, but does not have to barge her way in, as Plautus’ party contrives to spill out onto the street,4 and things hot up and boil over. How did her dirty old man come to be in there? We last saw him ever-so-carefully underlining (to agent One) that he would wait in the mall, at his friend the banker’s (116–17: with that apt, if elsewhere unattested, name Archibulus, “Archie Plotter”: pp. 136–7). Two swept off to tell pater that his agents are going to try to fool the Courier into handing over the loot to Two-as-Lizard (367–9; 378–80). In the event, One and Two took courier there to find big master, and carried off their ruse with his assistance (where we couldn’t see it: 580–4: “what a funster our old boy proved to be . . .”). One and Two then got to play courier to little master. He “needs” father, so dad can have his pound of flesh, and then deliver Ms. Dora Adora to son, for a year less a day. Son will send Two to fetch Pops—but, no: Two knows the long and short of it already.

“It’s a gas”: Space, Movement, Verse

187

Dad must’ve told him (them) this was what he was going to do, when they unloaded the courier with him; and now, we are specially told, pa has gone and got ahead—so far ahead, he’s been having to wait for everyone to catch up (especially us).5 Plautus has bulged the “wit and fun” of those astonishing stand-out scenes to the point where there’s barely time to tell us, once more, that there’s no spare capacity to spend on this “brief ” plot (741–5): He’s been inside for donkey’s years. ARG>LEO Well he didn’t come this way. LEO>ARG Through the alley, that way he came, round through the garden, on the quiet, so no one’d see him come here, none of the household. Afraid his wife’ll get to know about it. The cash—if your mother knew what happened about the cash— ARG>LIB+LEO Whoa! Sh— don’t put the mockers on it! LIB>ARG+PHIL In you go, quick. ARG Farewell, you two. LEO>ARG+PHIL Make love, you two. LEO>ARG

(2) At the end, we shall watch son duck back into madam’s house, with his lass, at least for the moment. Earlier, he had gone back into madam’s house, on her terms and conditions. For he ended the scene of his humiliation with the bargaining power of the cash (745). It was lack of that which had, first time round, got him “thrown out” of the house for lack of funds (between 545 and 585). But when and how did he get in there in the first place, so he could be bounced out on his ear? Out trot Jack and Jenny, for their swansong, parted by mother’s exclusion order (585–6): LIB LEO

Wait a mo’. Whassup?

188 LIB LEO

Commentary and Analysis That Philaenium coming out from inside, Argyrippus alongside? Zip your mouth, it’s him. Let’s listen in.

The boy could have been in there all the time, including when that Rival who coulda been Argyrippus (the one we must’ve surmised was him) got himself ejected and dismissed (B1: 127–248). [That would’ve been precisely the sort of case of “three’s company,” where “two” had been “a crowd,” that Diabolus’ Pal is ultimately going to suggest for the love-triangle compromise we shall never deliver on (i.e. “every other night,” 915–18). In spirit, too, that is indeed the shadow that the first ejection scene does put over the rest of the play, the hold it has on its repetition, only with Argyrippus co-starring (B3: started at 532–4; proceeding at 585–615; interrupted by 616–745). And this is what will put on hold that after-shadow, the would-be third rival, the other could-be Argyrippus: namely, Father. For the other mother will come over and eject him, too, from madam’s establishment. Lasso him, back in harness, on the road. Lover-boys all have this coming. Any spectator, though, would prefer Argyrippus to have gone in after the rival’s expulsion. One at a time makes very good fishing, and madam only seems to have a string of the one girl.] But (if you listen to me) Asinaria does tell us how come we shan’t ever see Argyrippus walk in that door, past that sign “Strictly for hire.” Sure, the front door opens wide to all who can pay the entry fee. On the other hand, discreet patrons, like that ageing would-be Argyrippus, could always use the alley-way. But in the case of the one and only true Argyrippus himself, however, the point is (madam tells us) that he keeps slipping through madam’s terms and conditions. Spatially, by worming in there.6 Verbally, with his promises, his procrastination. The reason why madam trooped her daughter out (for B2: 504), and promptly marched her back in again (545), was to tell her (and us) that the game’s up: “today” is the end of the road for Argyrippus. As we heard (532–4): So, now. If he doesn’t fetch me 20 minae over here, cash, Our Lady, he’ll be shoved outa here, showering us with . . . tears. Out! This is the last day the “funds short” cop-out will play. Not in my place.

“It’s a gas”: Space, Movement, Verse

189

So mother brings her outside because Argyrippus is inside.7 Madam at once piles in (504): Am I really powerless to tame you to obey when I say no?

She warned daughter not to talk with that Argyrippus, son of Demaenetus, no physical contact, no conversation, no eyeballing” (522–3: Fil-aivnion = “Loves-talk,” dicacula, 511). But instead (526): You go and love him, go and chase him, go get him summoned to you.

So, yes, the boy can be a back-door man, just the way his father will do it, when he has a go at making like a kid on the block again. (Only, papa will be a kid who is armed with the cash needed to open the bordello door and the bawd’s girl’s legs both.) But the boy has a trump card all his very own (penniless, but not penisless): his Pretty Woman will not abide by madam’s terms and conditions, not when it comes to this lover. Because he’s special, he’s The-One-That-I-Want (ooh-ooh-ooh): “I love him, mama . . .” ( . . . cum illo quem amo prohibeor, 515). Now, since agent One can already tell Two, when he first arrives hotfoot with his bombshell news, that “Big master’s at the mall, but little master’s in here (viz. at madam’s, not domi)” (328–9, ubinam est erus? | maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus), we shall reckon that Argyrippus has got in there between C1/B1 and A2 (viz. between 248 and 249). The rival lost out, noisily; now the protracted “wit and fun” of all those failed attempts of One and Two to set up and con the Courier is about to begin (329–30, iam satis est mihi | . . . mitte ridicularia. | mitto). Agent One comes into his own as “agent One”—he has been that since before we came in, before (we heard) the son leaked (and finessed) the plot to father (57–8, tune es adiutor nunc amanti filio? | sum uero, et alter noster est Leonida). Now between his mall-bound exit (after A1, at 117) and his reentry from the wings to start off A2 (viz. at 249), the rival has been ejected (= C1/B1: 127–248), and “A couple of hours have elapsed.”8 Agent One immediately makes a point of telling us so, in no uncertain terms, as he gives himself the wake-up call, seizing the moment to play the novel part of “Cunning-yet-Loyal-to-Paterfamilias’ slave”; only then to find that his role in initiating the plotting (as he will next ascertain from

190

Commentary and Analysis

Two) has been cut by the finessing of the plot, and its preemption by Two:9 249–51, 253): Well, lord, Libanus, you best get on and wake yourself up now, and plot a trick for organizing a bash at the cash. It was yonks ago you split from master, and went off to the mall. There you slept like you’re on vacation, through to this hour of the day.

“Much time has elapsed” formulae tell us that some plot has passed us by.10 Argyrippus’ prime agent is privy to the boy’s whereabouts (who else?), and he must’ve met him off-stage: a not very funny thing happened on the way to the mall. Or back. This is how One knows that Argyrippus is “inside”— where “inside” must mean “inside madam’s” (329). So Argyrippus will be at madam’s between 248/9 and 584 (and so knows precisely that Diabolus is out there fund-raising “on a vow to fetch the 20 minae per annum whack today,” but has not yet brought the dosh to madam and reserved the merchandise: 633–5; iam dedit argentum? non dedit, 638). And mother’s blood will boil, she will be good as her word, and force the issue. Her last act in the plot will have been to show this second loverboy the door, finally: asap (viz. between 544 and 584).

The next time this happens, the other mother will lose her rag, and exercise her ultimate command over her household. Mme will take her loverboy, the old boy, inside, like a child. Amator! Meantime, their son is moving out, and moving in with a partner, not unlike a daughter transferring to set up home with her man.11 Only, not even in a hotel, but in a brothel.

What is an uxor dotata (for)? Otitis? Someone has to keep the aspidistra flying. Plus d’un âne qui s’appelle Martin.

9

Beastly Lives 591–745 (reprise) Have the whip hand, get your own back neque ego homines magis asinos numquam uidi. ita plagis costae callent. quos quom ferias, tibi plus noceas. eo enim ingenio hi sunt flagritribae. ~ I never ever saw worse human Eeyores: the way blows have hardened their ribs. Go give ’em a whack, the one to get hurt’ll be you. They’re whip-busters by temperament. Pseudolus 136–7

These are, as a matter of fact, the only “asses” or asses in the rest of Plautus beyond the seven mentions in Asinaria.1 They belong to the brothel-keeper Ballio (= “Beater,” from bavllw; and (?) “Prick,” from bavllion2), who is driving out of doors his battalions of servants, soon to be joined by les girls. They will wake up their ideas or “be mottled” by lashes. These “blowbearing anthropoids” beat me and this (= whip) in “hardness” (duritia; plagigera genera hominum), but their “hide” isn’t harder than this “rawhide (= whip)” (tergum . . . terginum), so do say, “Does it hurt? There, take that,” any slave despising master” (doletne? em sic datur; 133–56). Have it.

Now when Louis Havet, the French Latinist nearest to Asinaria and dearest to my heart, imagined the best comedy we can have lost when the Attic ΔONAGOS, The Donkey-driver, degraded into Roman ( fabula) ASINARIA—The One about Donkey-driver or The One about Donkey[s], for centrepiece extravaganza he conjured up a comic muletrain driven by an

191

192

Commentary and Analysis

exotic Macedonian: so how many panto-donkey pairs would you like to see lugging loadsabullion cross-stage apace?3 This would certainly make for echt Roman ostentation (Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.6.29): Asinae cognomentum Corneliis datum est, quoniam princeps Corneliae gentis, empto fundo seu filia data marito . . . asinam cum pecuniae onere produxit in forum, quasi pro sponsoribus praesens pignus. ~ The nickname “Jenny” was given the Cornelii because the head of the Cornelian clan bought a farm or gave his daughter to a husband . . . , and brought into the forum a jenny with money for load, to serve interested parties as tangible pledge.

I shall now follow Havet’s lead, only forget Demophilus’ play, and assert that this is exactly what clown Plautus brings us. Would you believe, a mule-train in a shoulder-bag—a “neck pouch” (crumina, 590). As it were, Asinaria in a hold-all.4 Yes, master fetches slave out to the place “where rock grinds rock” (31: 33–4): . . . In the Ironbongo-Clubbery Isles, . . . where dead oxen assault live human beings.

Welcome on stage. The donkeys we’ll see and hear today will be actors playing slaves playing slaves.5 Busting their ass this way (we said, p. 178) will be done by those beasts of burden, the agents. Their deal is that, whatever the terms and conditions, they suffer beatings, whether or not it ever gets them anywhere, or saves their going there. Inured, stubborn, hardened to it, these ascetics carry the can for one and all. Master lays his commands on his slave, and heads for the bank. Agent Two charges in, like the proverbial speedway team of “four white . . . chargers” (279). He’s looking to hook up with his mate, and “share the yoke” (288, adiungat). He “bears” and “shares” that (verbal) booty (maximam praedam et triumphum . . . adfero, 269, etc., etc.). For both of them, “loot” means a step toward buying freedom—by suffering (277, 321): . . . He carries all his Aladdin’s cave on his back. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Beastly Lives

193

Look, if a hide’s needed to square the bill, I’m game for robbing the National Bank.

The burden of the play is simply this, so “LISTEN!” (taceo, 332: 334–7): LEO LIB LEO

Remember an Assyrian dealer buying them Arcadian asses off our household steward? I do recall. So what is it comes next? There. So. He’s only gone and sent the cash to be paid to Saurea for them asses. The young guy’s just got here, and he’s fetching the cash.

“Carry cash for asses” (347, ob asinos ferre argentum). “Cash for asses fetched” (269, argentum afferat . . . pro asinis). “20 minae of cash. . . . | What’s it for? Asses . . .” (argenti uiginti minas . . . | qui pro istuc? asinos . . . , 396–7).6 Running a household is all about this quid pro quo (pro uectura, 432, pro eis, 437, pro iniuria, 497). The slaves, as we heard tell, can’t open their mouths without b(et)raying how large back-scarring beatings and back-breaking toil loom in their lives. They congratulate themselves on surviving, they brag of their weals.7 In their skins they know how close life brings them to these donkeys, their alter egos (339–42):8 LIB

LEO LIB LEO

. . . You must be meaning those donkeys— clapped out, gone lame, the ones with their hooves worn right down up to the hocks? That’s the ones. They once used to hump here the birches of elm for you. Got it. Same ones carted you off to the farm, bound fast. Perfect memory.

Enter the bearer of the shipment. The slave stops him “beating down his mate, the poor old door . . . —super-sensitive to the approach of any [biped] kicker” (382–91, calcitro, usually of a horse, cattle or, of course, ass— human or animal).9 Once a slave rigs up as a super-slave (we felt it), he lashes out, verbally and corporally. Treats his fellow slave as a whipping post (418–19):

194 STEW MERC>STEW STEW>LIB

Commentary and Analysis . . . Wish I’d got a whip here in my hand— P-lease, do be calm. —so I could give those hips of yours a good scour, so toughened to blows.

All the bullying—of the free stranger as well as the slave associate10—only makes Courier obstinate, and dig in his heels stubborn as a mule: this messenger, in his merchant’s cloak (chlamys, according to the MSS), signifies money, he is the cash he bears. The muletrain of three trot off with the loot to find the guy (who should be) in charge. Next door, madam is having problems curbing her stubborn beast of burden, unruly daughter, assiduous worker, and money-spinner (504, mansuetem; she breaks the rules, takes dicta pro datis, 525: pp. 155–6). When the slaves return, it is at a canter. Now they are the money bags, swagger in their step, and congratulate each other on their histories of crime and punishment, “suffering blows bravely . . . , 8 strong birchers . . . , taking a beating . . . , 8 strong lictors equipped with flexi elm birches” (557, 564–5, 569, 574–5).11 When these couriers decide to eavesdrop on The Lovers, instead of badass Lizard wishing he had his whip about him, a re-verbera-ting idea strikes agent Two (the former mock Lizard. 589–90, uerberarem): LEO LIB LEO

I really do wish I had a pole. Oh yeah, and what for? To beat the ✴a$$es✴ with, happen they start making a racket from the shoulder bag here.12

The slaves assent. “The pain of Love’s Torment is nothing to the pain of Slaves’ Torture—they should know—they’ve tried it” (617–18). With which lacerating point, they burst the bubble, with more verbal reverberations of beating upon beating (626–8). Little master has learned the power ascribed to money; the slaves proceed to cash this in. For 20 minae, they’ll ascend from slaves to freedmen to patrons (and he’ll move down from master to patron to client, 651–2: 653): There’s 20 minae here, inside this money-pouch.

Beastly Lives

195

The “gas” in Asinaria’s bag of tricks comes between this tantalizing news and the eventual hand-over (732–4): LIB>ARG ARG>LIB

. . . Father ordered us to fetch this cash here to you. Great timing, spot on. You’ve fetched it right on the dot. In here there’ll be 20 minae, good uns.

But if this will be the Son’s reward for taking his beatings like a human donkey, the suffering’s still only just begun: with the money comes the blow of Father’s terms and conditions. So has the poor boy really learned slave phlegm? (738–9: how facile in fact is faciet facile?):13 Will you endure it, Argyrippus,

LEO

—your dad hugging her tight? ARG

This’ll ease me into enduring it. Easy.

For the last Act, Son will be forced to perform the slave’s shtoom part for Father at least as well as the slave had for big Master in the first Act. He is bound to “suffer it,” must indeed acknowledge it out loud, only to be told he is told to (perpeti . . . perpetere, 845, 847: p. 147). He must at all costs play up to his tormentor’s mood: join in with the party, sweet wine, sweet talk, love, be of good cheer, wear a smile, be glad his wishes have come true, and thank him for the chance to say thanks for the chance to say so (830–50: 850): Ow! Doing that bound me to you, fast.

This may not earn him much, though he will have the last word in the drama, and when he does leave, he’ll leave invited inside into the motel asylum with the floozie. And he does duck the play’s sting in the tale of revenge, which unfolds when the wrath of comedy’s losers ignites with Diabolus’ outrage (810): Me? Suffer this? Keep mum?

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Commentary and Analysis

and erupts with killer matrona’s fury (907): non queo durare. ~ I just cannot endure it.

That’s why mama will never make a comic hero: she has rights to assert. She is in command, and in the ascendancy. She has money, so she doesn’t need it. She has power, so isn’t treated as cash on legs. She is the boss, so isn’t hardened to suffering. No chance of her grinning and bearing it, gritting teeth and wearing a smile, tickling the torturer’s ears and bragging of the traumas out of earshot. She had no business showing up at asinine Asinaria and pooping the party. She had no part to play—other than to part the assembled company. The whirlwind whistle-blower She. Has been (t)here all along, on their back, athwart every lap-eared Roman husband (auritum-maritum poplum). The invisibly audible Reality Principal, as in Ariel: “Thou liest” (if you know Shakespeare’s Tempest). Imperium. Command is on display in this tempestuous play. Command—command the house, the stage-door, entry/exit. Open for money. Money for sex. Sex money, sexy money. The bank will pay XXXX to the bearer on demand: cash it out. Do the donkey-work. Put your back into it and a shine on it. Whatever it takes. Scars and stripes. Choking words. Down on the knees. Straight up a cliff. Obeisance. Slave away. Enslaved to slaves. We all are, they know it. They could explain, but cannot. That would be plain silly. In our minds as in our ears.14 There’s a lot to put up with. Money makes donkey-work for its bearers and beneficiaries alike. For the slaves, this is one more chore to put their backs into: portering, first Two, then the other, One (657–63, 689–90): ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LEO

Do put your deposit here. Check this pouch here. Plain flat on my neck. You’re my master, I will not have you shoulder this burden for me. Why don’t you liberate yourself from labour, and stick it on me? I’ll be porter. You, as befits an owner, go ahead, unladen. Hey now.

Beastly Lives LEO>ARG ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

ARG>LIB

197

Whassup? Why don’t you hand it here to flatten my shoulder? Her—the one you will hand this to—tell her to beg and plead with me. Where you told me to check it, slopes on the vertical plane. That’s flat. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dear Libanus, my patron, hand it over to me. It’s more fit someone liberated hump a load on the street than a patron.

Askew and aslant, agent One is here dubbed Libanus, not just for “Lebanon” and “frankincense,” like many a Greek slave, but for “Liberation” from “labour,” and undubbed Libanus for libertus. Plautus’ pleasure principle puts plenty into ad libbing with the name (ubicumque libitum erit animo meo, 110, cf. 711, ut est libitum).15 On one side he is the softie binary for toughie Spartan Leonhardtsen (627 ~ 681): Libanum . . . libentiores . . . quam Libentiast (268: a comic pretend deity); sacrifice is due to Livbano" (712–13). On the other, he is the comedy’s free spirit: Libanum . . . liber (274–5); Libanum libertum (411, cf. 689–90). In Plautus’ day, the middle of Mars’ month of March could make an aptly Marsy Gras moment to stage Asinaria: Republican Rome had celebrated the year’s traditional puberty rite for its adulescentes, the granting of the toga uirilis, then—at the Liberalia: libera lingua loquemur ludis Liberalibus (“We’ll lloose lliberated llingo at the Lliberalization Festival (of Bacchus),” Naevius, fr. 27 Warmington).16 [Libanus is also named at 35, 54, 60, 64, 249, 287, 312, 408, 616, 629, 677, 683, 707.] Libanus’ “neck” is, besides, the right verbal place to “check” luggage, collum/collocare.17 The jokes make it “plain” that the jokes are about “plane”: plane/plane. The slapstick slippery “slope” in play acts out social status. It will be the creative matrix for the double satire on master Master ahead, which deserves an encore, and second thoughts, and is about to get it. In the neck—check. First, the heir apparent is forced to kneel before the knees of “his” brave slave. To worship the legs of every human carthorse that ever lugged lumber (339–40):18 “You must be meaning those donkeys—clapped out, lame, and with hooves worn down up to the hocks?” (670–71, 674–8):

198 LEO>ARG ARG>LEO

LEO>PHIL

LEO>LIB ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

Commentary and Analysis And yet sure you’ll not carry it off, unless knees get a massage. What it takes—“needs must”—command away, massage ’tis. Pay what I beg? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . If this was mine, this day you’d never plead with me, and me not give it. Better you plead with him—he gave it me, to keep safe . . . Cop this, p-lease, Libanus. Ball-n-chain, have you dared make fun of me? Lord, I’d never’ve done it if . . . you weren’t so . . . bad at massaging knees.

This is Agent Two’s bag, he makes all too convincing a budding actor of Mastery. He invented the humiliation of grovelling below the knee as a typically sadistic punishment for a non-existent crime, arbitrarily triggering a groundless complaint at imaginary shortcomings of Slavery: “nice try, boy, but you ain’t getting nowhere” (678). Agent One takes up the baton as he cops the holdall with the stash inside. First (we just heard tell) he reprises the refusal to permit Sonny Jim the token sop of “portering” (689–90). Then, hey up, he invents a rhyming humiliation of social elevation, riding high on the back of the workers, weighing heavy on the necks of the underling downstairs. Once firmly astride the saddle, the new boss shows (encore) he knows imperious, ten-a-penny cruelty inside-out and upside down. He comes up with a sarcastic barrage of running complaints, taunts, threats, and final dismissive insult of bogus disssatisfaction—trumped-up, acted up, imitated to the life. To “carry off ” the cash, the Badly Drawn Boy is going to have to stoop to conquer. He must “hoist” his inferior, the trash he will trample through their lifetimes long. Whoa there, steady up; this is assuredly, lord, one of the highpoints and at the same time one of the lowpoints of Roman theatre (699–710): LIB>ARG ARG>LIB LIB

uehes pol hodie me, siquidem hoc argentum ferre speres. ten ego ueham? tun hoc feras argentum aliter a me?

Beastly Lives ARG LIB

ARG LIB ARG LIB

LIB>ARG ARG>LIB LIB ARG LIB

ARG LIB

ARG LIB

199

perii hercle. si uerum quidem et decorum erum uehere seruum, inscende. sic isti solent superbi subdomari. asta igitur, ut consuetus es puer olim. scin ut dicam? em sic. abi, laudo, nec te equo magis est equos ullus sapiens. inscende actutum. ego fecero. hem quid istuc est? ut tu incedis? demam hercle iam de hordeo, tolutim ni badissas. amabo, Libane, ohe iam sat est. numquam hercle hodie exorabis. nam iam calcari quadrupedo agitabo aduorsum cliuom, postidea ad pistores dabo, ut ibi cruciere currens. asta ut descendam nunciam in procliui, quamquam nequam es. ~ So you’ll give me a ride, lord, today if you’ll hope to fetch this cash. Me give you a ride? Gonna fetch this cash off me some other way? Lord, I’ve had it. If it is fit for owner to give slave a ride— climb on. Shit happens. Here’s how the overblown undergo subdual. So stand ready, the way you used to as a kid. Know how I mean? Pow, that’s the way. Get going. Well done, no horse is as smart as you, horsey. Climb on right away. I’ll do it. Hey up, what’s this? How you going? Lord, I’ll take some feed away if you don’t highstep à grand galop. Please, Libanus, whoa there, enough. Lord, you’ll never plead a yes today. ’Cos now I’ll use the spur, and drive you straight up the slope, at a trot. Later I’ll give you to the millers, for torture there at the races.

200

Commentary and Analysis Steady, so I c’n climb down now on the slope, though you’re 710 one bad ’un.

The imposition on master steps up: “carry” → “hump” → “give a ride” (fero → porto → ueho).19 Putting him through his paces deals another “blow”: em sic (704). If you will, a physical smack on the rump just to steady the ride for mounting, the injury before the insult added in the verbal pat on the back, “Good boy,” which precedes the instant switch-round “Gee up” that marks the off: hem quid istuc est? (705: with aspirate). Plus immediate threats if the pace isn’t exactly right. This—ow—is how it feels to be sat on, and any steed that wants to unseat the rider—“Whoa” (706)—needs reminding who has the whip hand. New boss, same as the old boss (we don’t get fooled again). The slave knows how to act tall in the saddle, he digs spurs into his beast so as to drive him full-tilt up to the top of the hill, before at once forcing the inevitable ride back down again. Verbally, threats turn dressage into deliberate working to death. Workhorse slaves know exactly where they are headed. As things are, their end is that workhouse, the m✴✴l, where society finds the staff of life, but knackered animals—horses, asses, humanoid vehicles—find a never-ending round of grinding toil, pain as bad as any fiendish punishment devised for slaves and criminals, and every hour of it a flat-out rotary race to oblivion, hauling ass (709). Worse than bizarre that “This is the earliest literary reference to an animal-driven mill that has come down to us.”20 That lies ahead. Immediately, the jumped-up jockey knows an exquisite torture to inflict on a mount: pulling up to dismount on a downhill slope. Riding begins and ends with commands, to “Stand ready” and come to a “Stand still.” Slavery amounts to a lifetime of “standing by” (asta, 703, 710). There is no escape from that ascent, the “slope” of social standing (aduorsum cliuom . . . in procliui, 708, 710 ~ procliue, 663). “Climbing on” meant backing up, halting, and make pony stand ready, steady, wait for it (| inscende, 702; | inscende, 705). “Climbing down” means a noisily sadistic kick in the teeth in the form of another effortless bogus complaint. No, horsey isn’t the “Good Horsey” he was patted for in the paddock. He should be ashamed of himself; fancy winding up as one more four-footed also-ran who don’t make the grade: “You’re one bad ’un” (710: note the assonance): descendam nunciam in procliui—quamquam nequam es.

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The banter between the foursome of fellow human beings began with pity felt and instantly retracted by slaves toward lovers: “the pain of Love is nothing to the pain of slave torture—they should know—they’ve tried it” (617–18, O Libane, miser est homo qui amat.—immo hercle uero. | qui pendet multo est miserior ). Losing a patron for the future is no loss to the slave—he can’t lose what he never had (621–2). The juvenile lead needs breaking in to get real, his self-pity just has it coming (629–30): How you guys’ fortunes leave mine far behind in their wake, Libanus. For this day I shall never live till evening.

No wonder the slaves put their heads together and go on the offensive. Right away, “20 minae” up slaves in the ascendant to freedmen to patrons, and down boy from master to patron to client (651–2). Agent Two then enforced supplication. Agent One took over, and made himself a second patron, outstripping the ascription of that daft name of his (689–90): Dear Libanus, my patron, hand it over to me. It’s more fit someone liberated hump a load on the street than a patron.

When he enforced equitation, little master thought it was the pits, and told the world why (701–2): Lord, I’ve had it. If it’s fit for owner to give slave a ride— climb on.

This provokes an outburst from the high and mighty One, a triumphant yelp which marks the equestrian event as the centrepiece of his Asinaria (702): Happens all the time. Here’s how the overblown undergo subdual.

All this was set up by the attempt to unload the Courier in the last showdown showpiece, where the truculent violence of that slave steward rode roughshod over social stratification (non decet superbum esse hominem seruom, 470, tun libero homini male seruos loquere?, 476). Now, in the sequel, the role of principal boy bears for a second the whole load of class-hatred for society en masse: give untermensch his head, and he’d make sure pride goes before a fall, sic:

202

Commentary and Analysis

super → sub-. About as likely outside farce as the chance this nonce-verb has of ever catching on in Latin (subdomo is a a{pax). It would mean turning boasts into beasts, hosses and asses into bosses and posses. Worse, this is the excruciating moment when “carrying the cash” choreographs ultimate humiliation of our prince charming into “carrying the trash.” Getting mounted means standing still while the creature from the bottom of the pile takes advantage of his chance to play Mr Big, by messing around with his mind as much as his body, his memory as well as his bottom (702–5): ARG LIB

ARG LIB

Climb on. . . . So stand ready, the way you once did as a kid. Know how I mean? Pow, that’s the way. Get going. Well done, no horse is as smart as you are, horsey. Climb on right away. I’ll do it. . . .

Our young lover was once a boy and was treated as a “boy” (puer). But “boy” also means “boy” as in “slave” (puer). According to this smear, boys were used to being treated like slaves, and that means putting up with having to stand by patiently while being mounted astern—from the rear. Playing piggy-back games with dobbin is innocent; the slave’s fun innuendo of passive buggery for master Master is not.21 The infantilization of superior breeding assuredly completes the comic game set and match: slave → beast of burden → boy → defenceless child victim → bum boy. Whereas the expulsion of the adulescens from the bordello was a formulaic shouting-match of irate degradation, swearing to tame the household by dumping it back in the gutter where he found it (138–45, esp. 145, reddam ego te ex fera fame mansuetem, me specta modo, cf. 504, nequeon . . . te . . . facere mansuetem . . . ?),22 Sir Slave Knight’s crossing of sexual with status subjugation knots together Plautus’ nadir and zenith of carnival subversion through extraordinary comedic hyperventilation. All good thinks come to an end. The slaves are finally brought down to earth by being elevated to heaven. Ultimate satisfaction takes the form of

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ascension and obeisance, and the opportunity to play One god off against another god, Two (712–16):23 ARG

You giving me the cash?

LIB

Yes, if you stand me statue and altar status. sacrifice an ox to me here like a god: for you, I’m Salvation. You just shoo him away from you, master, step my way on your own, the orders he gave for himself, stand me them too, down on your knees? Which god am I to name you? Fortune, yep, Fortune in Your Favour.

LEO

ARG>LEO LEO>ARG

To be sure, this denouement caps the theme of heartfelt supplication from a believer that runs through the whole encounter: prayers for salvation from cruel fortune have accompanied salivating rituals of self-abasement (salue, 619, 623, salus, 648, 656, 672; cf. 911; sospitor, 683; serua, 654, 688, cf. 256, and 17, 911;24 uostrae fortunae, 629,25 supplico, 682, 715).26 If (spurred by the puns ut est libitum . . . Libanus, 711, and statuam . . . statuis, 712) we thought that sacrifice to Lord Libanus ought simply to feature frankincense, we have missed the religious conversion of the governing metaphor of servitude as donkey business for tetrapods of every rank: for the extortioner’s demand is that an ox be the immolated victim (713). Bovine, equid, andrapod—the story of human culture. The invocation of these twain divinities creates the transition to the topic of wishes, not horses, and so to the play-off between One and Two: with the last words in the scene the girl presses the button: “They’re awmighty good goddesses, both of them” (719). Her first appeal to the slaves who hold the mastercard had been to beg Two (665):27 Don’t unyoke us, we are lovers.

Between these interventions, Philaenium has been played off against Argyrippus by the uppity slaves, and she has been played off between them, too. The quartet of bipeds move in and out of teaming up as a pair of quadrupeds.

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Commentary and Analysis

In terms of theatre somatics (you heard), when the two slaves stepped aside for a pow-wow, so both were in it together, they turned down the boy’s encouragement that “it’s sweeter to chat in a clinch,” on the grounds that they can do without that, but he should certainly take his own advice (639–44).28 So the lovebugs wrap themselves around each other again, while the conspirators plot their mutiny, just as they had when making their saccharine “hope to die” vows and wishes, and so induced the slaves to break cover and break up the schmaltz (613–15): PHIL ARG

PHIL

My mind’s made up. I’ll do to myself all that you do to yourself. Oh honey’s sweet, you are sweeter. Sweeter than life to me, you are. Let’s have a hug. Oh yes please let’s. Wish we can get buried this way.

It’s the “eye-stinging” hug (remember?) that the slaves can’t stand a moment more, as they encircle the babes (619–20). It’s the girl they crudely go for, after putting the boy down (623–4 ~ 621–2). This first verbal-reverb of an assault puts master Master’s back up, while his slaves back down and bicker (625–8: 625): Mind, not a beep out of you, whipping-boy.

This is the provocation that launches the running aggravation that aims to come between the lovers.29 First off, Two demands that the girl’s pleas move beyond words, and get physical (662, 664–7 ~ 668). For his turn, One puts down His lead, and demands an ego massage from Her—“loving or kissing?—Both!” (683–5 ~ 686–8). Boy ups the ante, and so does She: “I’ll do what you want, just give us the cash” (692). But (we saw), no more than the back, the neck is never far from slave thoughts (657–63). Next this slavering slave wants his whack of kiss-ass flattery, topped by his piece of ass, a milli-second of “necking” (694–5 ~ 695–6: 696): Make me a collar of your arms, hug me tight all around the neck.

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Both lovers need practice at buttering up “master.” They let their mercenary drive show, calling the couriers “treasure, supply-line” (655) and “eye of gold, gift and glory of love” (691, aureus, donum). Neither “lover” needed any coaching in how to treat a person under their command who played up. It was the young man’s own fault that his protests prompted his exquisite humiliations (669 ~ 697–8): ARG>LEO LEO>ARG ARG>LIB LIB>ARG

Kiss you, her, whipping boy? So just how insulting did that look? ~ Hug you, executioner? So just how insulting do I look? No you won’t speak such an insult against me and not pay for it . . .

The slave duo had from the start seen how to bracket the couple to cause the maximum hurt. They’ll single out the girl, so that her sucking up to them will provoke the boy into provoking them to massive retaliation (646–8): LEO LIB LEO LIB

. . . Like some fun with master? Sure got it coming. Want me to have Philaenium give you a hug, in front of him? Lord, I fancy that.

The plan—“Cuddle her till he’s a laughing-stock” (679)—imposes its shape on the scene to the end, where “beg” and “suck up” turn into those twin genii of Salvation and Favouring Fortune, once the boy has made his double wish for “a year of her to himself ” plus “20 handy minae” (720–25). The drama turns on this logic of “linkage”: where the courier would not release the funds to the agents “Unless Big Master is present” (ero praesente . . . , ero . . . praesente, 455–6), the slave successors to his role insist on “A hug from the girl while Little Master is present” (praesente hoc, 647). The money lubricates the circuit of desire in which the lad must let the agents make a pass at his lass so that he may buy her body for himself, exclusive. This is exactly what his father means to lay on him, momentarily, as slang puts it. Buying love, he bought the girl, and bought his son, enslavering over both of them.30

206

Commentary and Analysis

Boxed in by money and family, unlike the rival who gets to share venting the displaced Oedipal venom with the other surrogate figures of JocastaClytemnestra-matrona, and her parasitic pal,31 poor little lover must at once grow the patience of a slave. He can’t pull it off. But (recall) the whole idea that love is misery was scotched from the start: the slaves as usual know better. Accordingly, as will not elude anyone in the audience, revenge on the person of his lordship is only skin-deep. They treat Argyrippus as horse, not ass.32 Going weak at the knees, the slaves talk the girl’s billing and cooing into verbal fantasia,33 but the boy’s torments are confined to (mere) portering, flattened shoulder, kneeling, and the saddle, not the real thing, the slaves’ back/hide/neck/legs, beating, breaking and blows, whips and hooves worn up to here. . . . In parallel, the girl says “She’ll do anything, for the dosh” (692). But there is not the slightest risk that anything but token, momentary excruciation will be imposed on the prince and his showgirl.

As you like it. As you were. God-man-beast.

10

A Right Earful Audience as Asinaria

As well as eyes and spectacles, playwrites make audiences need ears and ear-trumpets,1 as much as slaves and children (64–5): Parents the world over, Libanus, will take their kids, if they’ll hear me out, and do some favouritism . . . .

This includes everyone in town. (= “Keep your ear to the ground!: all of us are [in] this play.”)2 Hearing is reading out [loud]. It is [not] heeding, [dis]obedience, trying to attune, reaching for the intonation, following along a rhythm, indulgence; and it is overhearing, sneering, snooping, spying ready to snitch, and give the game away. To mention “hearing” is to command people—to suss, and lend ’em, out. This is how the play functions, and it is what the play, as such, is about. This re-wind chapter is devoted to listening when The One about the Donkeys tells us to. Let’s listen. Hard and easy.3 (1) Back at the start, the slave heard himself booked for master’s agent, not condemned to the mill. As they split, agent One found control passing over to himself. Pater calls twice through the distance: “You listening?” (audin, 109, 116).4 To ask and (absolutely vital, this, did they but know it) to tell whereabouts they’ll be. Master can’t (over)hear the asides: “I’ll be anywhere I please”; and, the future holds no fears (110–13: 114): Why, you’ll be no big deal for me, if I pull this off.

Slave’s lobes would have burned if he’d stayed to hear master out, singing his praises (118–26. m- m- m- m-: 121; for 124: p. 158). He didn’t. 207

208

Commentary and Analysis

(2) Client’s voluble volleys drew Madam out in the street. They trade earfuls. Her “Scram” calls his bluff, “Wait, wait, listen” (audi, 228–9). He is given terms for an assignation; they are non-negotiable; the door slams. (3) We begin the Courier scene “with” agent One. We are privy to his reactions as he overhears soliloquizing Two’s asthmatic crowing, hell for leather. He does love to hear himself talk. The late arrival needs a silencer fitted, as well as a break: his tongue is his “patron” (290–2), the top of the voice is needed for him (296), but questions must be calm before he asphyxiates himself (326).5 At last they meet, in pomp and fatuousness (cue messenger of tragedy: quod adfers aures expectant meae . . . , 331–2): LIB LEO

What’s that you’re fetching? Mine ears are a-g-o-g. Focus your mind. You’ll know it, I’ll know it, fair do’s.

= “Pray hush” in the theatre, no pin must drop in this otoscope for Rome. We must all bear with plot exegetics (ausculta, 350):6 LIB LEO

What next? So listen up, and you’ll know.

Courier goes to knock (i.e., kick) at the door.7 We’re waiting for him, and get in first, with “Basta! Don’t beat down my mate the door, with your kick like a mule!” (ohe, inquam, si quid audis, 384; uerberarier, 387; calcitronem, 391). We watch the matinee rehearsal for the scene, then overview the two agents’ attempt to method-act Courier off the stage, minus payload. For Courier’s benefit, Two-as-Three fakes splenetics at One, until he risks earache nauseating him out of town (446–8):8 heus iam satis tu,

LIB>ATR

audin quae loquitur? ATR>LIB MERC>LIB

audio et quiesco. —tandem opinor. conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est priusquam incipit tinnire. ~

A Right Earful: Audience as Asinaria

Hey, enough’s plenty.

LIB>STEW

STEW>LIB MERC>LIB

209

You hear what he’s saying? I do hear. I’ll simmer down. He’s hushed, now’s best to approach him. Before the tinnitus begins.

We overhear asides from Courier to us; between agents and Courier, and agent to agent, in our hearing; assorted asides meant to be overheard and—not.9 This is eery drama, defamiliarized otology. Nothing works, everyone meets their asymmetric match: exeunt omnes. But just LISTEN: as sigmatism threatens to cut loose, and then does, the scene con-cludes (467–7; 493, 499, 502–3):

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

. . . supplicassis. . . . tractare sese. . . . molestus ne sis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . fortassis . . . | fortasse . . . | fortasse . . . percontatus esses . . . negassim. ||

(4) Juicy Lucy says she’s “a good girl: she (has to) hear mama out—and listen!”—cowed into serfdom (she means, in this parting shot of protest) with a flea in her ear for going astray (516–18: audientem dicto, mater, produxisti filiam, 544).10 (5) We begin the cash-undelivery scene with harmonies, One, Two, before Three, Four, the suicidal lovelorn, come on for their eavesdropping: “Zip your mouth . . . , let’s listen in . . . , let’s shut up and listen” (subauscultemus; taciti auscultemus, 586, 588). “You hear? . . . Put a stop to your chit-chat, so I can take in his” (audin, 598). The slaves love ’em and leave ’em, stepping aside for a confab, a wordin-the-ear not a cuddle (619, 639). Hatch the plan to mock the Babes in the Wood: “Listen up, help out, gobble my words” (auscultate, 649).

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Commentary and Analysis

Histrionics divide and link lovers, lovers and agents, agents and agents; the parting of the ways comes from the lad, who takes loot and lady indoors, with a “Whoa! Sh—don’t put the mockers on it!” (heia, | bene dicite, 744–5). (6) The prize bore, earnest Ernest, is not cut out for “wit and fun,” and is cut out of it. Here hear his Pal read out the proposed contract for him, to give us “a(n ear-splitting, side-splitting) gas.” “Listening to it will freak out madam. . . . You listening?” “I am. All ears” (cum audiet; audin? audio, 749–50). Resuming, to conclewd: “Hear the rest.” “Speak, I hear you” (audi relicua. loquere, audio, 791). The anti-dramaturgic otacoustic dollop of play-reading sticks out a mile after the sparky buzz of electricity just circuited round the stage. Hiatusridden and gagging, the monotone monologism of obsessional, myopic, legal Latinity sets us up for the imminent crescendo of consternation, invasion, outrage, closedown. How blinkered are we to the special(ly otic) FX of the let-down? Schadenfreude rides again. (7) It’s a bust, the script runs ragged (p. 181). The rival’s agent calls matron in to suffer heartbreak, fly-on-the-wall: “There’s your guy . . . Let’s catch birds from our secret (am)bush . . . You hear what he’s saying?” “I hear” (880–1; audin quid ait? audio, 884) The eggshell “scene within a scene” structure implodes when she does, reeling at pater’s lucky throw of the dice: “I can’t endure it” (non queo durare, 907: pp. 181–2). Her world (and it is her world) falls about her ears, torn asunder: she must be hearing things. At the death [of dramatic intercourse], her alongfor-the-ride “assistant” scrams, and jolly japes fray into so many loose ends of pandemonium astir, before dinnertime unwinds into throwback incantatory hounding, as the cacophonous bray of anti-marriage reels in our gelded hero (domum, 867, 897, 902, 937; i domum, 940; and the full—halfline—formula, at 921, 923, 924, 925, p. 182: this time, we all sing): surge, a—mator,—i dom—um. | ~ Up, lov—erman,—home you—go. |

M a t r o n a is only named at 885, when set on the warpath (and [by conjecture] at 908). No doubt ΔA r t e m wv n h is a vengeful “A r t e m i s” who always gets her man,11 and she makes a fearful Graeco-Latin paragram. As

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her tongue-lashing whips the comedy home, it’s hard not to see her as the play’s ultimate slave-driver. Prologue did tell us to listen to the play rename itself (10–12: p. xii): “. . . changed its name from the Greek name of the play.” By the end, surely we’ll see that The One about Donkeys turns out to be The One about the Donkey-driver, after all. Even as we recognize the formulaic label [sc. fabula] Asin-aria, the Plautin will still tell us not to miss the inflection of asinar-i-: for an asinaria would be a (woman) “donkey-driver,” and a fabula asinaria would be her story, too.12 In Greek, for good measure, ΔONAGOS, The Donkey-driver, is “common gender,” so anyone can play, including the matron. It is down to her that the plot can come about (now we know [that is] why she bought those donkeys in the first place), and now both Demophilus and Plautus “bring their ass” on-stage, and show it off: him, her, them, and us, asses, asses, and morasses. So, yes indeed, the change of title does make “such infinitesimal difference” (pp. xii, 191, 219 n.5). And that is “fun.” Res ridicula est.

The oldster’s grouch was that he was displaced by mrs from his own home, her owned home. Finally he got his wish, to join forces with their son. Only, he joined them forcibly (843–9): ARG

DEM

ARG

. . . and yes, too, lord, tell you the godhonest truth, father, this scene hurts me bad. No, not that I’m not passionate for you, all you want, but I love her. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . So you got your wish: I want my wish for me. You’ll endure this one single day through. Because I’ve handed you power to be with her for a year, I’ve come up with the cash to fund loverboy. Ow! Doing that bound me to you, fast.

So far, so good: game, set, and match. The son got exactly what he had coming. Just what he had asked for, in the first place. An unstoppable reason

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Commentary and Analysis

for not asking your dad for any personal favours (tibi . . . amanti argenti feci copiam, 848–9 ~ uti sibi amanti facerem argenti copiam, 76). An emotional licking: “Ow!” (em: cf. the “smile that hurts,” 841, em aspecta: rideo, with 431, em ergo hoc tibi.).13 Gotcha (deuinxti).14 Father does fuse with son, for matrona has made him into the third of daughter’s would-be Young Men to be thrown out of mama’s house and into the street. This is what the play made us, and told us, to watch. That little ear-tickler of a song-anddance from the lucked-out “chucked-out” lover began there (foras aedibus me eici?, 127; eicis domo, 161). As Madam retaliates, she does as she says she does when she says, ponderously, how “The doors of a brothel open to feepaying customers, but visitors who can’t pay find the door shut” (241–2, ianuae lenoniae), and with that auricular-oracular keynote promptly does it, disappearing indoors, shutting up shop. That’s the way, you can’t beat it. Do your stuff, and beat it.

Now. Do it your ways.

The lovers bang the brothel door behind them. Cue the whole cast to meet on stage to end it all.

Epilogue 942–947 Some curtain call: your applautus is appreciated A Roman audience has been round the theatre block before.1 Knows that an actor applauded is also a slave saved, from lashings of lashing. The lead is a mule, as well as today playing one, and his hide stands to suffer the tanning that the slaves playing the slave roles have bespoken as the story of their lives (p. 235 n.5). So today’s play bows out with a re-doubled plea to show appreciation, once for the slave/star, twice for the master/butt. The pitch goes: the good name (of) Dhm-aivneto" is at stake. Omnes parentes listening to him in the auritus poplus should stand up for him: “Celebrity-Celebrated.” In a word, as in eras bygone of participatory-solidary masculinist sociopolitics, this civic theatre can still ring in our ears: “Vulgaire-Populaire.” The play’s Snitches saw pa “with his son, at son’s girl’s place, drinking the day long, robbing wife blind” (825–6, cum suo . . . gnato . . .). We produce our take on the orgy (literally) as we see it, then hear that they told Ma (what she least wanted to hear, and was bound to rise to), and she agreed, that pa was flipping his lid “with his son’s knowledge” (853, meo . . . filio sciente . . .). We get to hear Snitch repeat the exposée—in the version “with his son alongside” (863, cum filio | potet una atque una amicam ductet . . ). What gets her is partly that her mule is kicking in another stall (874), partly that “the pervert’s perverting his very own son” (875, . . . suum corrumpit filium), as pa performs—confesses? brags?—for her and us to witness and judge ourselves (882–3, fateor, gnate mi . . . me corruptum uideo). Accordingly, her beef is that pater’s crime is the disgrace of putting the—their—child on the receiving end of such behaviour: a Father to be ashamed of (932, istoscine patrem . . . mores largiri liberis). So far as she is concerned, this is a family play, about the desecration of the family. Look no father (862): hoc facto sese ostendit.2 We remember, too, that Demaenetus told us, told Slave confidant, and told himself, that what he was doing was focussed on be(com)ing his 213

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Commentary and Analysis

son’s beloved father (67, 76–7): uolo amari a meis |; ego percupio obsequi nato meo, | uolo amari ?obsecutam? illius, uolo amet me patrem. His idea was to buy his son’s love just the way his father had his, and sod the shame (71–3) neque puduit eum . . . beneficiis me emere gnatum suum sibi. | eos me decretum est persequi mores patris). This father wanted to do same as omnes parentes (64). The epilogue offers a different line. Here, all there is to play for, apparently, is that this guy cheated on his wife, for his own gratification (942): . . . suo animo fecit uolup.

Qua farce, that is to say, Asinaria invites you to get real and resist sanctimonious clap-trap: it can look like the script’s last word cues Self-Regard, pure and simple. Brackets off children from parents. For in the beginning, our clapped-out Father who ain’t in heaven didn’t just trot out The Plot. No, he was telling everyone with ears to hear, compellingly-compulsively so you know it’s his truth, exactly what’s driving his plane (67–77, 83): uolo . . . uolo, percupio . . . uolo . . . uolo . . . , cupio (cf. 84, cupis . . . cupere). In the end, that is Plautus’ “clap trap”: let’s hear it for the Pleasure Principal. Put your hands together, for uolup’s sake (846): at ego hanc uolo. ~ Well, I want her, I do.

The heart of the matter, she’s a private dancer, do what you want (her) to do: this theatre imprint—this economy of pleasure—plays through its cityscape scenario of bawdello amenities to up the libidinal stakes of comic concupiscence (237–9, si tu uoles . . . ut uoles, ut tibi libebit . . . nobis legem imponitio, 737, quae uolet faciemus, 835, amari mauolo, 844–6, quae uelis . . . uolo . . . uolo). Let’s hear it one more time: Plautine myth reinvests community in the risking of full selfhood to the velleity reserved for pater (ego = uolo). As Niall Slater’s fine tailpiece on “the Epilogue” marvelously concludes: “As Tinkerbell is revived by the audience’s applause in J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan?”3 Well, yes. And more “as”s: As a play, Peter Pan is above all famous for the moment when Peter Pan turns to the audience and asks if it believes in fairies. This is merely an extreme version of the demand of any play that, at least for the duration of its per-

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formance, the audience should believe that it is true. . . . In point of fact it is too easy to give an Oedipal reading of Peter Pan. The father, Mr. Darling, is humiliated—he plays a joke on Nana the nurse (the New-found-land dog) which falls flat and then challenges the family: “Am I master in this house or is she?” . . . It is equally easy to describe the difficulties that Barrie had in writing, and especially in ending Peter Pan. . . . [T]he actors were all sworn to secrecy and . . . no one knew how the play was going to end.4

The Assinaria audience, too, can go home, go on to their party, dream the dream of having their cake and eating it. Walking the line between uolup | and uapulet |—“kicks” and “a kicking” (942, 946). As long as we are still here, however, the cast can tell us how they see the play. They have the nerve to tell us the old’uns are the best—it’s been the old old story all over again, no surprises there (943, . . . nec secus quam alii solent): What he did was nothing new, weird, or off the way other characters behave.

Pater himself had tried to end the play at his highpoint, the zenith of a top “Venus” throw, for rebellion, naughtiness, devilry, sex, frivolity, farce, “fun.” Upon that death wish, for “Philaenium for me, me, me, and death for the old lady,” he brought the house down (904–5: 906, to a cast of [invisible] cupid extras): pueri, plaudite.

But in the end, it was always going to be our turn. Your turn. What do you reckon to playing Pensioner Pan and Tinkerbell? Wallop.

Applause: Plaudits please. If you believe in hoaries.

notes bibliography indexes

Notes

Prologue 1. For a couple of lively recent productions, see: (1) www.mun.ca/classics/masc/ asina (director: C. W. “Toph” Marshall, translator: Peter L. Smith, 3–7 March 1997), performed in the drained fountain in front of the University Library, University of Victoria, B.C., and keenly reviewed in Didaskalia 4.1 by J. G. Fitch (of UVic) (www .didaskalia.net/issues/vol4no1/fitch.html); (2) www.asscarpediem.it/carpediem in three acts (director: Antonio Anelli), 22 August 1998, at Basico, 28 July 1999 at Barcellona (Sicily), and 30 August 2000 at Terme Vigliatore. 2. In the [devilishly aposiopetic] form homo homini lupus, this stars in Bacon, in Hobbes—and in Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents (Wright [1974] 136 and n. 16). 3. Cf. Segal (1968) 116. 4. Victorious Rome did go to the theatre in the course of triumphal celebrations (cf. 545–76), but if there was a reason why Mars should “help” out on this play-day we can’t know it (p. 197). 5. Demophilus, playwright of ΔONAGOS, is to all intents and purposes lost to us (p. 151). We know Atellan mimes of Pomponius and Novius were titled Asina and Asinius (Ribbeck [1873] fr. 226, 255; cf. Putnam [2003] 104–5 n. 10). Asin-aria should mean “The Donkey-play”—except that asinarius in Latin means “(male) donkey-driver.” “T[itus] Maccius Plautus” appears to be a jocose pseudonym connoting “Phallus the son of Clown [Maccus of so-called native Italian “Atellane” farce] the Mimeactor [where plautus, or plotus, = “flatfoot” = planipes = “mime”]” (Gratwick [1973] 83). Cf. p. 172. 6. Cf. 942–7. For a grex asinorum: Tacitus, Histories 5.3. The crier makes a noise, then sits down, and hushes: he is a model theatre-goer (cf. Gilula [1993]).

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Notes to pages xii–xiv, 125–127

On the status of these actors and actor-managers: Brown (2002) esp. 235–6 (Jory [1966] holds that the dominus gregis is simply the owner of the slave actor). 7. Auritus of the ass: e.g. Ovid, Amores 2.7.15, with Henderson (1992) 31–2, on contempt imaged for slave Cypassis’ scarred chassis; cf. Callimachus, Aitia fr. 1.31, on assonance, qhri; me;n oujatoventi paneivkelον ὀγκhvsaito; cf. Bertschinger (1921) 22, on Phaedrus 1.11.6, auritulus, and Putnam (2003) 107–8 and n. 24, on Horace’s Vinnius Asina . . . onus (Epistles 1.13.2, 8, 12) answered by Augustus’ Onysius . . . ὀγκwdevstato" (in Suetonius, Life of Horace). One gain in asinification is “otacoustic amplification”: et aures immodicis horripilant auctibus (Apuleius, Metamorphoses 3.24). Where “Neddy = Big Ears,” as in areas such as Apuleius’ spectacular-euphonious novel and Plautus’ theatre-auditorium, the oral-aural terms and conditions of ancient textuality self-enact, as self-reflexive and self-echoing: see papers in Kahane and Laird eds. (2001), esp. Gibson, Gowers, esp. 77–83, “Ass’s ears” (at 83 seeing the point of Plautus’ auritum poplum), Henderson, Trapp. Chapter 1. Killing the Plot 1. Cf. serui quod seruati sunt, Donatus on Terence, Adelphoe 181, Maltby (1991) 564; Asinaria 805, seruus seruet. 2. Thus the first act’s sweetness and light preludes a line-up of noisily detonating temper in store—lovely bad manners, naughty verbal release (pp. 136, 145–6). 3. I shall presume to give a different inflection to the play’s metatheatrics from the “tale of failed improvisation” profiled by the pioneering reading in Slater (1985) 65. 4. I shall project onto the play family values that use but abuse those in the gutsy reading by Konstan (1983) 47–56, esp. 52, “The success of the son’s affair is contingent upon the social integrity of the father . . . [who] must now, according to the conventions of this story, mend his ways and take up his proper position in his house. . . . His humiliation is intended to bring him to his senses and make him play the role, at least, of a Roman head of household.” Theatre always fights its stock of narratives, whether archetypal, spliced, mutant, or decomposing, and I think reading for the plot sidelines the wind-up in Plautine farce. 5. Treggiari (1991) 323–64, “Dos,” at 323. 6. Schuhmann (1977) esp. 62; cf. Nisbet and Rudd (2004) 280 on Horace, Odes 3.24.19–20, nec dotata regit uirum | coniunx. 7. Rei (1998) esp. 93–4, and Vogt-Spira (1991) esp. 17–26 (who argues that Asinaria can have had no Attic original). 8. Sauvra = “willy” (the one-eyed trouser snake): Bertini (1968), 159 on v. 85 (and 224, on v. 374). 9. Schmidt (1902) reviewed the Greek names in Asinaria, coming up with twenty-four, of which ten occur in other comedies as well as in Greek reality, eleven more turn up in Greek reality, and three more are unattested but standard Greek as name-forms.

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10. Cf. James (2003) 54 on this maternal side of the lena. 11. I.e., no credit at all: cf. Freyburger (1986) 223 n. 560 (p. 238 n.30). 12. The Greek historian Polybius took as long to write the whole story of Rome’s reduction of Hellas to Graecia as it took the Romans to do it: as detainee and virtual hostage, then honoured guest, friend and counsellor, and finally (not uncritical) apologist. Reading the chunks we have left is our best link into metamorphic Rome from Plautus through . . . Terence (cf. Henderson [2001a]). 13. Wedlocked to frustration, Asinaria never leaves us in doubt of “the outcome,” speaking through its slave curtain-warmer (84): cupis id quod cupere te nequiquam intellego. This show will be short ’n’ sour (88, uerba in pauca), a psychological study (titter ye not) of one underdog’s bid to get real, just once (113): “you’ve shown the whole of your mind, in the course of speaking your plea” (cf. pp. 181, 213). This draining psychodrama— 14. Anderson (1993) 79–82, at 81. 15. Konstan (1983) 47, 48–9. 16. Slater (1985) 64. 17. Henderson (1999) 38–66, on Terence, Adelphoe, at 54. This father-son ?friendship? is the oddball in the grid of (a dozen) relationships studied by Raccanelli (1998). The father’s father bailing him out of trouble (68–73) suggests to father that “permissiveness” ought to run in the family (cf. Borghini [1999]). 18. The names (faithfully inventoried by Schmidt [1902]) are an Attic “phone book”; all the same, they contrive to “start” with “Archi” and “Hello,” “Hello-” in the first verse, and for the second, “Reclining” [symposiast] and his Graeco-Latin rhyme “Strange” (Clinia-Dinia) sandwich “Neigh-bour” and “Punchbowl” (Chremes and Cratinus), where the latter wears the legendary name of a classic Attic comedian, a match for the booming finale of Demosthenes (865–6). These facile Greek socialites pack in the “light” syllables after the grave entrée of īt īn cēnam (864, Gratwick and Lightley [1982] 131). 19. Sutton (1993), 86–96, at 91–2. Cf. 887: p. 181. 20. I say this lightly, but I don’t mean it lightly. Theatre scripts are for playing for all we are worth. Thus intrusive “stage directions” from the editor (that’s me) would flatten the play there is to be found in the dynamics of Plautus’ drama. The same cast can (must, in any case) produce a different take every time, by relating to one another, and responding to relations between the roles differently. Treat the script as a theatre of language, and re-act. 21. Henderson (1999) 3–37, on Poenulus, at 28. 22. Cf. Virgil, Aeneid 4. 314–6, with 328–9. 23. Mounting the scene-setting as dialogue means prejudicing (from) the outset. Paterfamilias + sidekick conspire to stigmatize/pass off matrona as The [deprivative] Enemy (of Comedy), im-portunam atque in-commodam (46), but even here the words approved as the instant truth of uncensored thought are in fact minced—masked/marked as if “involuntarily” released (46–7, fateor . . . | posterius istuc dicis quam credo tibi, cf. p. 213). In production, you can leave her framed, as

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stereotyped agelast, or stress that she has been framed, when she finally takes the stage to represent her victimage (pp. 170–1). 24. Robbins (1993) 53–90, “Impertinence: Servant in Dialogue,” at 60. 25. Really, drama provokes more answers than questions. We can take the slave’s compulsive [half-remarkable] question as comic fiction signalling “unconscious” deathwish (hence dic obsecro hercle serio, 29, and caue mihi mendaci quicquam, 30): the flight is heading straight for [purgatory], in the “mill” next door / the confines of their home / the pillory of comic theatre. Neither player knows that they have already boarded the plane . . . , in our spoof disaster movie. 26. In removing 25–6 (as [?] a later production’s version of 23–4), Leo (1895) erased clumsy stage directions for the exchange (bold aggression, appreciated by receptive master). The master’s finessing of any questions from the slave deflates all the fuss over the slave’s ask about what master is asking of him: it was a set-up (roges |, rogem |, rogas |, 24, 29, 30, cf. scire . . . scibo . . . scias, 28–9). 27. For fides in Asinaria: p. 140. 28. In the Plautin lexikon of slavery, “elm” is going to spell “birch”—a scourging: 262, 341, 547 (?), 565. 29. “Libanus grossly misrepresents what Demaenetus did say to him v. 88 ff.” (Gray [1894] 51, ad loc.) 30. Cf. Ennius, Pancratiastes, Fabulae fr. 382 Warmington, quo nunc me ducis?, presumably from another cowering comic slave to his senex iratus: ubi molarum strepitum audibis | maximum, with Wright (1974) 63–4. The t-r-r-rembling t-r-r-rips in short syllables (31, 34): ducĭs ŭbĭ lăpis lăpĭdem tĕrit? | ăpŭd fustĭtŭdĭnas, ferrĭcrĕpĭnas insŭlas. In Greek, as it happens, a quern = an “ass,” o[no", grinding on a muvlh, “millstone” (Moritz [1958] 10–17, “The donkey”; donkeys did not drive pre-Roman Greek mills, cf. p. 200). 31. Libanus’ Latin coughs up expressive metrical gobbets that congeal into a word-icon for The Mrs.: ag-ag-usqu-exscrea . . . age quaes-hercl-usqu-ex . . . quousqu- . . . r-uxoris (43–8). Later uxor will coagulate into osor (859). How far will you go? Right down to the depths of the throat? Metapoemetically, this bit of over-acting hits the damned spot right away for the bitter taste of Asinaria’s gobbets of bad taste: do not swallow. 32. Neither “promise” need deliver: (master) “It won’t harm you if you pull off this [swindle] today” :: (slave) “Then you can worry about something else of your choice” (p. 133). Promises are like pleas and wishes—conceptual and verbal precision rules (as in any contract). So are “threats,” as when lovers match extremist pledges (604, 611). Comedy tells us we really ought to listen hard to just what does get said, or not. As in a real exchange (?). 33. Master and slave further conspire by vying for the lead (61, 63): tu primus sentis, nos tamen in pretio sumus. ~ posterius istuc dicis quam credo tibi. 34. Suscensere studs the play with wrath looming under erasure: 49, 146, 354, 372, 459.

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35. Master joins in this topic to set the mood for today’s script: meets his slave halfway by talking his talk. Capping Libanus’ pair of nameless places with one of his own (31, 34, ubi, ubi ~ 35, ubi), he cuts all too close to the grain in grinding out a not-half-ways-bad sampole of scally-wag slave jive (336–7): pol percepi . . . polenta? 36. This imagery preludes hooking client fish (178–80) and netting skybird clients without nets (225). As meta-commentary, the script is also writing its own review—“What on earth? The tops in entertainment. Sheer, pure, utter, fantasy. Best since the loaves and fishes sketch. Impossible to miss” (90–100, unde gentium? | . . . maximas nugas agis. |, etc.). 37. Shershow (1986) 48–52, at 52, quoting Asinaria 615–7 (my italics). See Parker (1989) esp. 238. 38. On “the junior meretrices of comedy . . . who still believe that they can afford to integrate free love into their professional activities,” see James (2003) 294 n. 56. Chapter 2. Drive a Hard Bargain 1. For differentiation between the speech profiles of Plautine roles for women, starring uxor dotata as pecking hen, see Schauwecker (2002). 2. See the revisionary theorizing of comic taxonomics in Lowe (2000), “Dramatic Fiction: New Comedy,” esp. 194–9 (I do not, however, see how “Philaenium can be Diabolus’ sister,” 193 n. 10). 3. You have to listen hard to get this crucial suggestion when quietly made by Hunter (1980) 221. The same sort of audience-trap is sprung in Terence, Adelphoe, where another prologue swallows its own plot, and sets up its Genial Father as “presumptive voice of the argumentum” (22–4): there the first act shows us a pair of fathers alarmed by the hot news that a son is stealing a girl from the town pimp; next thing we know, we see it happening before our eyes—except that at the end of the scene we are “oh-so-casually” given to realise that the boy was indeed doing the deed—but doing it for his little brother (Henderson [1999] 58, 61). In Asinaria the two lads share their part as (acknowledged) competitors and rivals, not (avowed) brothers and allies. 4. So Sutton (1993) 88, in my view on the right lines, despite over-reading 135 as literally meaning that this adulescens has “money . . . earned at sea,” and those have been “the savings he has all but run down” (relicuom, 233–4. “Leonida,” though, is not “another female slave in the household”: ibid.). Rosivach (1998) 63–6, diagnoses “a long-term relationship with just one young man. . . . We may infer from Cleareta’s threat to make her daughter available to another young man that up to this point [Argyrippus] has had exclusive access to her (195). . . . If this affair with [Argyrippus] is Philaenium’s first. . . .” “The downfall of all the boys” (adulescentum pernicies, 133) is indeed madam’s command over their wanting to have the girl for themself, and not have to share with each other (230, ne cum quiquam alio sit), and this is indeed the fulcrum of the plot, dictating the contract full of vetoes

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on contact with Other Men (751–86, passim, cf. esp. Diabolus’ amendment at 754) just as it frames the terms and conditions for Demaenetus’ mutiny, and ultimately shapes the terms and conditions for the Pal’s solution: a time-share between the two lads (916–18: pp. 140–1). Quite apart from unclearity how madam will deal with those 20 minae amidst the ruins of Demaenetus’ deal with her, this is forgotten by Rosivach, who sees “the liaison between Argyrippus and Philaenium restored. . . . In time he will settle down. . . . Philaenium and Cleareta will probably fall back upon Argyrippus’ rival Diabolus or some other suitably wealthy young man” (65–6). 5. Reassignment of 127–248 from the paradosis’ Argyrippus to (the so-farunnamed and unnamable Diabolus) adulescens-amator is vital to any reading of the play which is not after analyst dismantling: Leo (1895), 1, note on 127, Goetz and Loewe (1889 [1881]), 1: xxiii–xxiv, and (most forcibly) Havet with Freté (1925), introduction, passim. There you have it: “Havet bastardized Asinaria” (Phillimore [1926]). Cf. Bertini (1968), esp. 57–9, on Havet’s denial of Plautine authorship (which briefly celebrated the Asinaria with a [posthumous] volume to itself—by relegation to an appendage to the rest of the Budé series; but comprehensive coverage was soon reasserted: Ernout [1932]); and ibid. 48–56, “Num Fabula Asinaria Retractata Vel Contaminata Ad Nos Pervenerit Quaeritur,” esp. 48–9, summarising the reassignment of 127–248 from Argyrippus to the adulescens (Diabolus) (which need not be put quite so implausibly as in airier discussions such as Havet [1905] 94–5); pace Lowe (1992) 158–63, who refuses the ascription to (Diabolus), and claims that “Havet’s theory is open to fatal objections” (160). Danese (2004) also supports, and fully documents, said ascription. 6. Of course this cuts both ways: p. 213. 7. The name occurs in one Greek inscription: Schmidt (1902) 360–1. Solin (2003), 2, 818, records one dubious Diabolus. 8. An obtrusive “elemento Plautino”: Scafuro (1997) 455–6. 9. “I am a genre piece,” starts the lyric (sicine hoc fit, 127: “The Forced Exit”). The first two lines tumble out as they yodel about tumbling out (of the house, as the singer is doing), as promerenti optime hoccine preti redditur indicates, while preparing the way for the exquisite rhetoric of the “halved” pay off line, bene merenti mala es ↔ male merenti bona es (so much for his unbalanced mind!). The next line picks up mal-, and “halves” again, with end rhyme: at malo cum tuo ↔ nam iam ex hoc loco, but surges off to inform the police, and bring the house down, before the number loses all control and bursts out into abusive curse in the name of every mother’s son ever brought to a sticky end in every operetta ever performed (133): per-lecebrae per-nicies ↔ adulescentum exitium. Where sex-’n’-death meets the end of the line. Starting back over, the song resumes, having heard and understood the truth wrung from its momentaneous execration: “the sea is not the sea, you are . . . —and I, I am all washed up (134–5: mare . . . mare . . . mare . . . mari).

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He has found that he was lost but now has foundered (135–6, repperi . . . intellego), and eases down from the falsetto at 138, in the course of putting distance between past and future, . . . at posthac tibi |. The elaborate vow of revenge blusters away (bene feci → male . . . facere faciam, . . . faciam . . . faciam, 137–40), and does indeed name this boy’s destined function in the drama—avenging angel. Whistle-blower, or Snitch, in fact (p. 168). 10. This is the cornerstone of the standard line that Asinaria was “inter antiquissimas Plautinas fabulas compositum”—and even “may be the earliest surviving Plautine comedy”: Bertini (1968), 55, cf. Hough (1937), 35, Della Corte (1961); Anderson (1993), 121. But we all know donkeys don’t sing—much. Add (the clincher, this): it’s . . . short (breue). 11. tandem, 151: i.e., the song and splutter so far has been more “background;” we’re to treat the showpiece row that follows as bringing out where we can join in the showdown that just threw the Boy out on his ear. “Progress” starts from the marching orders at 228, nunc abi, with the boy’s “Hold your Horses” postscript at 229, mane mane, audi. dic, and the promise of a comeback, plus contract and fee. 12. Madame acts this goose-’n’-gander point out by halving the verse “50/50” (171) | dedi equidem quod mecum egisti ↔ et tibi ego misi mulierem. |. But this is also where she moves in for the kill—invading the Boy’s line, twice (at 173 she gobbles up three quarters of the verse), before grabbing the mike for her “defence speech” (quid me accusas . . . ). Thereafter, just one outburst (204–14), and hardly a word in edge-ways (176, 187, 190, 195–6, 227), before peremptory dismissal (228, nunc abi. |) decrees “Prosecutor Dismissed!” 13. See Slater (1985) 59, “the lena is content to perform her part just as it is usually depicted in the arts—and says as much!” (= 174–5; cf. 186). The excellent reexamination of Roman prostitution by McGinn (1998) happens not to deal with Asinaria. 14. semper oculatae manus sunt nostrae: credunt quod uident, 204; cf. Truculentus 486, pluris est oculatus testis quam auriti decem. 15. Dius Fidius is realised by Plautus here, and rationalised by Varro (De Lingua Latina 5.66), as the deity that “must” lie behind the formulaic asseveration medius fidius (i.e., “So may D. F. [safeguard] me”). Freyburger (1986) 288–92, esp. 289 n. 278, considers the evidence, including a temple of Dio;" Pistivou at Rome. 16. On fides in Asinaria: Lombardi (1961) 30–2 (and 29 n. 36 for the oddly “active” sense of fidem habere at 458). 17. Accipio: 87, 396, 469, 765, [772]. 18. Pliny the Elder notoriously claims that bread-sellers only reached Rome in the aftermath of the defeat of Macedon (167 BCE: Natural History 18.107, taken in good faith by Moritz [1958] 69–70). This happens to be the only oenopolium (200) in surviving Latin, and presumably works as catachresis deploring degenerate Greekness. Only an imaginary Rome could live “before capital.” 19. Would “120” be a significant number (= “2 talents”)? Do we assessors reckon

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“6 year’s worth” gets you the girl for keeps, because that’s a whore’s expected shelflife? (Propertius ready-reckons Cynthia’s hold on him as a quinquennium, 3.25.3: from c 29 BCE, say, through c 23?) Naturally, there are 20 mentions of the 20 minae in Asinaria. (In Slater [1985] 66, a typo makes it “80 minae” in the end.) Chapter 3. Funny Money 1. His part (in driving the plot) starts here (249): nunc . . .—or rather it does when he cues Two on stage (265; 267): nunc. . . . Or rather it does when this White Rabbit’s “running on the spot” party-piece is done to death (291, loquens lacerat diem), as contact and hello’s are curtailed (295–308, ibo aduersum atque electabo quicquid est . . . quid istuc est negoti?), and the business of divulging the message staggers its ever-so-gradual exhausting-inexorable-traditional way toward the turnaround of delay caused by the receiver’s urgent pleas for urgency (317, 325, 328, 331, 334–5, 346, 350): quicquid est eloquere → quin rem actutum edisseris? → age age mansero . . . → quod affers aures expectant meae → quid tum postea? → quid tum postea? → quid tum? ↔ ausculta ergo, scies! 2. One’s cunning plan (358) is just to send Two off to master (367): nunc tu abi, while “meantime” he holds the fort, stalls the Courier (370, interea, 379, interea). Two even tells him what to do (379). 3. One’s wordy first words here underscore the comic equation (= atque) of waking up a while = dreaming up a scheme (249–50): expergiscier | ~ fingere fallaciam |. 4. Contrast with this fun caring-sharing (pariter ~ partiam) ex-pers at 44, 506 (p. 229 n.1). 5. Typical, Two, that is, for One to have one’s cake and eat it: Whizzkid still pops the expected question for Brains, since he has found the solution before he knew the problem (358) quid nunc consili captandum censes? dice. 6. Konstan (1983) 53. 7. The long scene of the “reception/interception party” is well signposted: Courier’s arrival (392, sed quid uenis? quid quaeritas?), Pseudo-Steward’s arrival (403). The hot number take-off method-acts “Red Mist” (407–47), until closed “at length” when it has proved self-defeating (447, quiesco. ↔ tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam . . . ↔ ehem opportune. quam dudum tu aduenisti? . . . ). The request for pater is repeated—he’s still not at home (392–03, Demaenetum uolebam. ↔ si sit domi, dicam tibi ~ 452, si domi est, Demaenetum uolebam. ↔ negat esse intus). Persuasion and more Red Mist turned on Courier self-destruct—running into the sand “eventually” (486–7, i nunciam ad erum quo uocas, iam dudum quo uolebas. | ↔ nunc demum). Abortive? No—deconstructive. 8. Slater (1985) 62. The play’s slogan of “cash-for-asses” is first bruited here (396–7: p. 193). 9. Quintessential Plautus: Fraenkel (1960) esp. 119–20. 10. This will be quintessential Plautus: Fraenkel (1960) esp. 206–8; Lowe (1992) 165–70.

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11. This image of “pregnant weals” sparks off a searing chain of sexual violence imagery: 281–3, occasionem opprimere . . . , opimitates . . . effertissimas . . . pariet, 292, patronam comprimat. 12. “Military” talk: optionem, 101, insidias . . . , hostes, 106; cf. esp. 269, triumphum . . . aduentu, 552–3, legiones, copiae exercitusque eorum | ui pugnando, etc., 559, domi duellique, etc.: p. 219 n.4). Master’s real-man-of-a-father turns out to be named “Army Man” (Strato, 344). 13. Cf. Fraenkel (1960) 136. 14. Libanus, however, thinks he is holding his own, verbal tittle for verbal tattle (377, hostire, cf. 172, hostimentum, p. 139). 15. The attack on the door preludes more verboten touches of touching (sexual assault: 384–7, nostras sic frangit fores; tetigit; attigisse . . . nolo ego fores conseruas | meas a te uerberari. The personification continues with Ms Portal’s “rape alarm” at 390–1). 16. NB: Plautus does not deploy a (Graeco-Latin) pun which would make “20 minae” enough to buy a score of “menaces.” 17. What little we know about classical barbers: Nicolson (1891), Kaufman (1932) 145–8. 18. Metadramaturgically speaking, “it’s a gas” when One and Two conspire to fake it that “The Brains” has been so slow in turning up at the mall that he held up “Slave in a ’Urry” until he lost patience, and now gets on with his part, in the guise of mock Steward (413–15, hic me moratus est . . . , detinuisse). One shifting the blame for this onto Courier as part of the con is also part of the attempt to intimidate him. 19. The Steward talks like a cash-register—of banker, jingling coins, and metal goblets (438, 440, 444). 20. The deictics written into the text here, here, and here, (hoc . . . hinc, . . . has) exhort any production to ham for all the player is worth: the slave playing actor must play the slave playing up the slave in a stew as he uses his big stick as mock shovel, broom, and duster. In this quicktime parody skit that summarizes the combined operation of a household invested in continual self-care, pantomime captures in one action-packed instant both how the job should be done, and how it’s not been or being done, as usual, never does get done: so it’s a (self-enacting) challenge to get right, not to get wrong. What the play’s about. 21. In terms of stagecraft, “it’s a gas” for this actor acting another actor’s part to prevent the over-hearer coming out of his bubble, by keeping him aside, deliberately unacknowledged, to con him, work him over. To indoctrinate and prompt him. 22. Unlike the other names on the list, Exaerambus is opaque to us: sounds like a satirical twist on ejx-airetov", “select, special;” it’s not clear whether we should pay attention to “information” such as Dio Chrysostom 4 (p. 172 Reiske): Drovmwna me;n kai; Savrabon, o{ti ejn ΔAqhvnai" kaphleuvousi uJpæ ΔAqhnaivwn tou`to ajkouvousi tou[noma, dikaivw" fame;n ajkouvein. Cf. Schmidt (1902) 368.

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Notes to pages 150–156

23. Dromo is a common name for comedy and other slaves: their pace is dictated to them—forced either to race or else to freeze (but see last note). 24. Just as telling Courier “Don’t be afraid” (ne formida, 462) metatheatrically sums up his role, so “Don’t be a bore” (molestus ne sis, 469) accurately nails his part in the play. He is here to tantalize, block, spoil the comedy: he does, however, save us from “Saurea’s world,” as it gets too much of a good thing going. And he gets to whisper Asinaria’s last word on this stand-out episode, too (p. 209). 25. “High Profile”: a common—blank—name in Plautus, though actually— conspicuously—unattested in Greek (Schmidt [1902] 377). 26. Our father refuses to be “as other fathers” (50), but this limp wrist will never live up to his swashbuckling Father, that idolized dare-devil who can’t have been married into money by his father, but left the textosterone imprint of his scrapes out on the town playing pirate Bluebeard (52–7): uolo me patris mei similem . . . | eos me decretumst persequi mores patris. No daring raids down at the brothel from our pale shadow, his wimp idea of winning his son will be to divert income from Ma, not kidnap his tart. So the best Wilt will manage is to play his own son’s clone, and inflict the performance on the boy. Narcissism. Exhibitionism. Infantilism. You-name it-ism. Fun, really. Chapter 4. American Beauty 1. With 517–18, cf. Prologue’s word of advice to his p.a. man: “mind you get paid for both performances: speaking and . . . sitting down” (5). 2. The pair swapped couplets of counter-expostulation (504–5 ~ 506–7), then the Llass’s eloquent line of exculpation is recognized and negated in the same breath (511): satis dicacula es amatrix, and her one line of self-vindication earns the put-down (513): tu mihi aduersatrix ades. The first soundbite implodes ma’s bark, with a brash flourish of pious Personification: matris expers imperiis → piem Pietatem . . . more moratam . . . | postŭlem plăcerĕ, mater, mĭhĭ quo pacto praecĭpis? |. (To which ma merely retaliates—cut down to size: “pietatem” . . . matri imperium minuere.) The second flash of rhetoric is a honey, real poise and grace: | nĕquĕ quae recte făcĭunt culpo nĕquĕ quae delinquunt ămo. (Cf. 514, | neque . . . accuso neque . . . existimo. |.) But the third—the third packs the complete anatomy of erotic self-portraiture in one demure slip of a daughterly damsel’s hookline verse (and sinker). | linguă poscit, corpus quaerĭt, ănĭmŭs orat, res mŏnet. |. A psychedelic perfectly formed loose-limbed fourfold dipody which has the lot (i.e., calls for overacting), this is poetry in motion. And this bit part embodying the oldest profession (is mihi quaestus est) proves meretricious courtroom oratory as lubricious as the delicious bedroom muse of courting is judicious. There’s a person inside this cyborg? (p. 239 n.10)

Notes to pages 158–163

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Chapter 5. Beating the System 1. Cf. 270–1, pariter potant, pariter scortari solent, | . . . praedam pariter . . . partiam, 317, magna est praeda cum magno malo; cf. p. 192: this is the word-noise that defines and animates Leonida’s plosive part—and persuades Libanus to flag him down: properans . . . pedibus (290) boils up ([patronam comprimat . . . pro illo peiierat] |) to approperabo-praedae-praesidium-parem (294), and that does it (“praeda,” 295). 2. Sutton (1998) 94, cf. Sherberg (1992) 144–5. This is, for example, how that comic turn Cicero’s Pro Caelio plays Rome, and how its commentary replays the classroom (Henderson [2002] 205–34). 3. His slaves’ honorary mate is fêted by them as Comic Genius / Figure For Comedy, but we miss his biggest, his only, laugh when he stuck to the script so well . . . off-stage (580–4): edepol . . . Demaenetum lepidum fuisse nobis: | ut assimulabat . . . quam facete. | nimis aegre risum contini . . . , | ut memoriter . . . 4. For “suprema ‘end of the day’s session’ announced by the praetor to the people in the comitium”: Zagagi (1980) 117–18, at n. 40. 5. Talk about silly (591, 594, 597, 604, 606, 632, cur me retentas?; domum ire iussit; quo nunc abis? quin tu hic manes?; abire; quo properas?; ex aedibus deiecit). See Fraenkel (1960), 206–8, on 597–602. Who cares about her, if her Romeo manages to Juliet his hooker and pimp his Juliet throughout, whereas her horizon is having him for special, on the side, for free? That’s all she can say. Call it comic parody and deal with it that way, if that’s the way you feel about it (p. 228 n.2). 6. I.e. Plautine, not Demophilus’ dramaturgy: Lowe (1992) 166, cf. 167, and (1999), p. 185. 7. “. . . your eyes they are watering. Hence my question.” 8. My “Moses” here is Plautus’ Solon, legendary law-giver of Athens. 9. The convoluted and invaginated staging of the scene with these two couples calls for a welter of “him’s” and “her’s,” as all jockey for positions (cf. Franko [2004] esp. 44–5 on this “ensemble scene”). And the three guys lapse into othering the She (604, 631, 631, 631, 635, 679, 725, 736). But this herd are here to model her ass (you heard) as the play’s concentrate of money and sex: hanc . . . hanc (662, cf. 676; fused in the fun pun haec, 739). 10. The Boy just agreed to stay for one last night (597, nox). But Pa has already booked her for tonight (736, noctem huius et cenam sibi). The Peeping Tom Slaves know this all along (esp. 602, dies noctesque potent). 11. Schmidt (1902) 356–7. Gratwick (2001) 47 n.8 has “Argyrippus” dub for the (real) gold of “Chrysippus.” 12. Cf. Sutton (1993) 89. 13. Segal (1968) 105–9, finds thirteen verbs for “beseeching” between 662 and 699. Cf. 783; 917; 926. 14. In Greek this kiss was called “the pitcher” (cuvtra, Pollux 10.100: specially for kissing a “kid”: oJpovte ta; paidiva filoivh, tw`n w[twn ejpilambanovmena).

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Notes to pages 163–170

15. Both contrived tonguing and contrived kisses would be banned by Diabolus’ contract (794–5; 796–8). Kissing and naming in a toast will bring down on pater the wrath of wife: also outlawed by the contract (891–5; 904–6, cf. 780). 16. This twinning is aptly celebrated by Segal (105–9). Indeed: “It is hardly possible to differentiate the characters of the two slaves or their roles in this scene so as to assign each speech to one or the other with confidence” (Lowe [2000] 167 n. 87). 17. Note Slater (1985) 63 n. 6: “Note all the -ludo compounds in this scene: 677, 679, 711, 730, 731.” 18. Our Babes in the Wood meet the $£aves and a $ackfu£ of Farce where up-market Theatre would have laid on a centre-stage altar for refugee waifs and prayers to soften the will of higher powers (esp. 712, aram). Chapter 6. Stick to the Script 1. As in Bacchides 14–15. 2. Slater (1985) 64. Diabolus’ Pal is not called parasitus in the text, but he fits the bill: Damon (1997) 37–40, Antonsen-Resch (2005). 3. The pun leges /-lego sloganizes terms and conditions for the whole play-script (translego is a{pax). Ledgerdemain, bang to writes: so many false quantities to offend the ear. For such contracts, and the subjugations and anxieties they obsess on, see Scafuro (2003) and James (2003) 280 n. 19, and esp. (2006). Logos— 4. Slater (1985) 64. No hitches or glitches: so let’s add, “The parasite and Diabolus” wield “the power of art to shape the life of the viewer.” You can’t be too careful, not when you’re writing and word-painting, as is Diabolus. 5. The dynamics and logic of this Ars Amatoria are expertly explored by James (2006). 6. Gowers (1993) esp. 87–9 serves up our fishy play as basted into a loverly brothel—first “turned” (11, uertit, from Greek), then (preferably fresh) “seasoned any which way, as in pan-fry or bakeria, . . . turn ’em which way you like,” ready for us to enjoy (179–80, . . . condias . . . | uel patinarium uel assum, uerses . . . ), and for cocked-up Pa to pay for, host and miss (935–6). Chapter 7. Rotten Rhetorics 1. Hear comedy laugh at laughter, watch theatre denounce acting (840–2): ne sic fueris . . .—em aspecta: rideo.—utinam male qui uolunt sic rideant. Both actors need to bat this personable smile to and fro between them—convincing-andfake / brave-and-pitiful. 2. Lowe (1992) 170–5, at 170–1, “Plautine alterations . . . , a pair of eavesdroppers carries on a dialogue commenting on another dialogue.” 3. The opening dialogue insists that the well of “fear” driving this hen-run of a plot is gynephobia: per illam quam tu metuis uxorem tuam (19 ~ ne uxor resciscat metuit, 743–4—where Son interrupts—heia—before Slave Two can name the

Notes to pages 171–172

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dreaded deed she’ll—. . .). Not, therefore, into cowing the slaves, unlike most comedies out of ten (see 44–50, dono te . . . ut expers sis metu . . . | patres ut faciunt ceteri → 111–13, p. 133). 4. Konstan (1983) 48. 5. Slater (1985) 65. 6. Sutton (1993) 96. 7. Cf. 927, odium, non uxor, eram. 8. For the range within the Plautine senex amator type, see Ryder (1984) esp. 181–2 on Demaenetus. 9. First One leads Two in swapping dumb insults, locked two to a line (297–8), before Two emphasises for our sake that he’s the one in the know, and launches off on more of his plosives with his elaborate weighing of syllables of flesh by the foot (300–5, expendi → pondo . . . pendes per pedes, pedes centumpondium . . . dependes . . . propendes.) One does get to label the scene—and cut it (307, uerbiuelitationem fieri compendi uolo). 10. This “straightahead” play just keeps on keepin’ on, straight on through, out of the hutch and straight back home (54, cf. 115): pergam quo occepi . . . 11. Line 33 must be deleted. The slave made up two thunderously nightmare words to avoid putting his hell [the ✴✴ll] on the map: fustitudinus and ferricrepinus never reappear in all the Latin we have. On the other hand, whereas mythical isles promised utopia (cf. Romm [1992] esp. 156–171), Roman insulae were always (in) the neighbourhood, in the shape of the “island” blocks (of flats), where the poor lived (pun in e.g. Appendix Vergiliana, Catalepta 10.7). 12. Her wares feature: posh “gold doubloons” from Macedon and “Cupid’s nail”; a splendid line (giving it all she’s got) to introduce image and gloss in equipoise (153–6; 157): | remigio ueloque → quantum poteris ← festina et fuge |; and a crafted verse of wave + backwash psychodrama to cash the round voyage out (158): quam magis te in altum capessis tam aestus te in portum refert. Enough, all this, to provoke the Boy to land his first face-to-face threat. Loud and clear (159): ego pol istum portitorem priuabo portorio. But they should be talking portals, not ports (241): portitorum simillimae sunt ianuae lenoniae. “Money opens doors / money disappears indoors” is this playwrong’s cardinal principle—daylight robbery (271–2: i.e. stage money, in a bag ~ stage houses, no interior ~ comic script, in/out of performance). 13. Unnamed until her part is over, madam duets with the customer in (stale) imagery from Athens on Sea (Vanoyeke [1990] 99–101, “Le pouvoir des prostituées”). 14. Then our resident expert on love-birds and love-words finds “lovers in plovers,” amatores (221). For hooking johns as bird-catching in Plautin: Bacchides 50, Poenulus 679, Truculentus 951. 15. uult . . . | uult . . . uult, . . . uult, | uult . . . uult . . . ; and by running down the

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Notes to pages 172–175

status ladder she ends up wagging his tail/shaking her tail-feathers for him: “playmate → me → lady’s page → slaves of the house → maids → my pup gets sweet talk from the brand new lover, so he’s overjoyed to see him!” An invitation, in most anyone’s language, to Mae West your lapdog—cradle and rock—then wiggle your ass—bump and grind—on Bawdway. 16. in-lex is here the lure of in-licio (cf. 133, perlecebrae, 206, illiciebas), but outlawing in-lex from in+lex is as illegitimate as the Plautin sous-entendre that reads the—a, any—lectus as necessarily a dilectable diva’s divine “divan”: so 151–2, illecebra . . . non licitum est. 17. The ex-pert sexpert mimes the come-on routine of master-baiting (222–3): cued by the punter’s accusation (206, illiciebas me ad te blande ac benedice) this bébé dollop lip-glosses like -l through bene ↔ blanditer and salutando con- ↔ compellando ↔ osculando. Kissing the airwaves in consuescunt, she opens wide to “mouth” (os) all these orgasm omegas: → osculando, oratione; and whinnies her way through a double-pout of ooh-la-la-Latin climax: uinnula uenustula (explained by Nonius [p. 519 Lindsay], reporting a gloss reading out of the context in Asinaria (?): dicitur molliter se gerens et minime quid uiriliter faciens; cf. Krostenko [2000]). 18. Our rheterotic mistress’ body, at-and-past her best, serves as her own mannikin as she turns from moving words to crawling flesh (224–5): | si papillam pertractauit, | sauium sumpsit, sumere. The “stage-direction” pointer | haecine (226) comes and sums up the full-on fondling she just gave at least one palpably aroused nipple. Plus the all-consuming swoon she’s faked, in take-me-in-your-arms, takeme, take-me, pulsation. In this necking of the woods, a kiss is still a kiss (p. 163). 19. Madame’s terminal terms are “open-and-shut,” and leave the desperado to wave at her either/or’s in repeating them louder; and in re-doubling his terminal determination to go under (241–8): si . . . , tum patent, si non . . . , non patent. | ↔ | interii si non . . . , | et profecto nisi . . . , pereundum est mihi. | . . . | nam si . . . non . . . , certum est sumam . . . ; pergam-atque experiar, opibus-omni copia, supplicabo-exobsecrabo, dignos-indignos, adire-atque-experiri. 20. The verse 260 does this, surrounding the speaker with his own words, in the line-dissecting aural chiasmus “to left and to right,” p- . . . c- ↔ c- p-. Four lots of birds with one quadrant—and every bush filled with spectators, he points (us) out, “in every direction” (259, quouis). The augury is either spot on citation of law or else a perfect take-off of lore: see Horace, Odes 3.27.1–16, parrae . . . auis . . . coruum . . . cornix, with Nisbet and Rudd (2004) 324 on ib. 11–12. 21. Libanus’ travesty of augury finds the curate’s egg: the prediction is that life swoops between good and bad, and it does, at once (260 ~ 317; cf. Gulick (1896) 240–1). He is good as telling us, if we can read the signs, that his feud with the Steward runs deep (264). 22. nudus for the slave means a back stripped for a whipping, where to us it means “in your stockinged feet,” for accurate weighing minus clothes: why else would either party strip, as pendeo plays between “weighed” and “strung up for

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torture”? (p. 134) The wordgames work us through this hell: if strung up tight to a beam, then weightless—hanging without dangling. 23. Scandalized Courier will, or can, stand no more after One’s scandal of a badmouthing, which “badmouths” him as a “scandal” himself, while under the guise of obeying compulsory orders, the voice in his ear mutters for him to submit and escape more scandalous badmouthing (from Two)—for the verse itself is agape, a “scandal” of “badmouthing” (473): flăgĭtĭŭm | hŏmĭnis. {da, obsĕcr o, argentum huic, ne mălĕ lŏquatur.} 24. Philaenium’s “eloquence” amounts to an unyielding barrage of appeals to “mother” (507, 511, 535, 537, 540, 544, p. 170). Argyrippus’ equivalent barrage with “pater” studs his “devotion” scene (828, 831, 833, 842, 843; cf., at the “party,” 882, 889, 899, 904, 938. The girl might’ve won if she could get madam to reciprocate: father’s game is to trade binding togetherness with “[that’s] my boy”: mi nate . . . nate mi, 829–30, 836, 882. Her son crawls to his “mater”: 911, 931; she isn’t fooled: bellum filium, 931: ironic, or not: you decide, p. 182). 25. In the starkest terms, the scene polarizes Madame’s treatment of her Girl against her treatment of the Boy: 543, intro abi ~ 228, nunc abi (cf. p. 225 n.12). 26. Repetition of repetitions of repetition, no less (551, 560, 564 ~567, 571, 574): saepe, memorari multa possunt, saepe ~ iterari multa et uero possunt, saepe, saepe (cf. infidelis-peiieras-in furto ubi sis-prehensus ~ fideli infidus-ubi prensus in furto sies-peiieras-fidelis). The “amoebaean” duet-duel goes out with a Big Bang (564–5 ~ 574–5): ubi saepe . . . octo | artutos, audacis uiros, ualentis uirgatores ~ ubi saepe . . . octo | ualidos lictores, ulmeis affectos lentis uirgis. |. 27. ”In a particularly obscene passage,” Habinek explains: “uerbero, -are ‘to flog,’ can be a metaphor for assuming the penetrative position in sexual intercourse. The master uses the noun, uerbero, scoundrel, as an insult, The first slave puns on the noun uerbero as the verb uerberare to propose that if the meretrix is off limits he’ll gladly have his way with his fellow slave. And the second slave points out that, as a cinaedus, the first couldn’t have his way, even with a willing partner, because his preference is the receptive role, especially, it would seem, during oral sex” (see Habinek [2005] 183). What wallopping whoppers (416, 569, 589 → 625–8, uerbum caue faxis, uerbero). Cf. Willcock (1997). 28. The stand-out scene shouts aloud its excrescence to mere plot: contact and greetings (619–24, ere, salue; Philaenium, salue) key in self-pity, despair (629– 30, . . . hodie numquam ad uesperum uiuam), before we learn there’s no time to lose (633–8, hodie . . . daturus dixit)—but plenty of time to play (638, iam dedit . . . ? non dedit). After this, it’s time-out/brinkmanship for tantalizing torment all the way (646, 677–9, 730–1, uin erum deludi?; etiam me delusisti? . . . delude; cur ludatis . . . | satis iam delusum censeo). It’s gottabe a scream when the “Back to the plot” formula leads straight to “In the nick of time” thanksgiving (731, 733, nunc rem ut est eloquamur → ut tempori opportuneque attulistis.). Finally: “Back inside, the pair of you” (745, ite intro cito).

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Notes to pages 179–190

29. “By the time” Plautus’ Pal “is finished with amor, there is no primal authenticity left to the sexual scene of the” Republican “world” (Henderson [forthcoming] on Ovid, Ars Amatoria). The contract in Asinaria was explicitly introduced, in triplicate, as a fantasy engine: si tu uoles :: . . . ut uoles . . . | ut uoles, ut tibi libebit (237–9). 30. In particular, 238, syngraphum facito afferas is fulfilled at 746, ostende . . . syngraphum. 31. The contract starts with a dose of hiatuses and pomposities. It plays a joke on Diabolus, which washes over his head (772–3: sapiat:): “She must toast you, you must drink; | she must not have less or more taste than you” :: “Approved.” And it makes a leggy joke, en passant, when it orders the girl (779: talos . . . homini admoueo = “press her ankle on a guy” + “pass the ankle-bone dice to someone”): “Not to make advances during the betting.” 32. See Franko (2004) esp. 45 for this all-in finale. 33. Plautus’ plays update urbanity for Rome—awash in alcohol: Miniconi (1964). Chapter 8. “It’s a gas” 1. Compare most helpfully Havet and Freté (1925), 8–11, “Sommaire des Actes.” On the play’s “dramatic architecture,” see Danese (1999). 2. Attribution of lines at 104–26 is (tellingly) uncertain. See López (1970). 3. Where the music strikes up / where the play starts up: Moore (1998) 253. 4. On this locus conclamatus, see esp. Lowe (1992) 171–3, and (1995) esp. 27. 5. See Beare (1964), “The Angiportum and Roman Drama,” 256–63, esp. 259–60 on our passage. 6. Pace Lowe (1992) 164, “Only the phrase trudetur foras, rather than excludetur, suggests that Argyrippus is at present in the house; the sentence as a whole suggests the opposite.” 7. Pace Lowe (1992) 164, “Is it likely that the two women would have come out leaving him inside?” 8. As the Loeb edition puts it: Nixon (1916) 1:149, “Act II.” 9. Slater (1985) 60, “Libanus conclusively loses control to a ghost-writer” (= Leonida, from 265)—but this is far from “conclusive,” since teamwork must win out between the double-act of comics (pp. 143–4). The yoke’s on them (288). 10. “His complaint of wasted time is a common trick to emphasize the passage of dramatic time” (Hough [1937] 23, citing seven passages from Plautin at n. 7). And the point of this emphasis is to warn that the situation just moved on (“so have your wit and fun about you; watch out—LISTEN!”). This answers the key question: “But how does Libanus have this information?” (Lowe [1992] 164). 11. Thus madam and girl told their client they loved just him like an only son: unice unum (208 ~ unicum natum, 16).

Notes to pages 191–193

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Chapter 9. Beastly Lives 1. Not counting one parable (“Ox and Ass,” Aulularia 229–35, with Plautus’ only asellus; cf. Brind’Amour [1976], Konstan [1983] 42–3) and one proverbial quip (“Profit?—Kick-back, more like,” Poenulus 684: quorsum asinus caedit calcibus = Otto [1890/1971] 42, s.v. asinus §13). The “asses” of Pseudolus 136 = “stubbornness,” whereas all three “asses” in Terence = “stupidity” (opined Lilja [1965] 33). Our “sanctuaries” maintain the “slave” image matrix; when it comes to real donkeys, nous sommes d’une ânerie: Svendse (1986), www.lovelongears.com. 2. A comedy name: Schmidt (1902) 179–80. 3. Havet-Freté (1925) xxxii–iii. The infinite differences a title can make: cf. Bertini (1968) 44–7 and p. 211. How many asses do make a pace? According to Cicero’s sneer, Pompey’s great theatre opened in 55 BCE with “600 mules” on-stage in a Broadway Clytemnestra (Ad Familiares 7.1.2). Cf. Horace, Epistles 2.1.187–92 for such extravaganzas—and “Know-It-All” Jacobs (2005) 325: “In the nineteenth century, theaters featured a genre called ‘the racing drama,’ where live horses galloped on treadmills set into the stage floor. The chariot race from Ben Hur was staged this way in 1899. Too bad this was discontinued. Even I’d go to the theater to see that.” 4. The whole world of the play is contained within, so when the agents fear they are “shut out” of the moneybag by the recalcitrant courier they show how meretrix, madam, and the joint run by madam are the equivalents of cash (exclusi, 361 ~ excludetur, 533). 5. As the play winds up (by) reminding us (p. 213), both master and slave were roles for slaves simply because they are roles: but the recapture of the runaway husband who dared cut the apron’s strings loose casts him figuratively as another slave domestic, part of the furniture. When the play showcases the “loyal” slaves successfully mauling the Jezebel and taking Mama’s precious boy for a ride as the price of releasing funds siphoned off from Her accounts, this precisely prequels, pre-figures, hams up, the Master’s briefer, speeded-up, failed party-piece (pp. 170, 180–1). Pater undertook to carry the can for his agents, but no one can do that for him (91). No one but us (946–7, p. 215). 6. “Arcadian asses” are said to be “the original exports—big tall ones” (Isidore 12.1.40, cf. Varro, De Re Rustica 2.1.14, quoted by Pliny, Natural History 8.167). Pella, imperial capital of the Philips and Alexander of Macedon, might conceivably be selected for a translingual hint of pello, “drive (a herd),” as when Argyrippus’ costly amores are imaged as if cattle: dispulsos compulit (738). 7. See McCarthy (2000), esp. 211–13, “The slave’s image in the master’s mind,” Fitzgerald (2000) 40. 8. See Bradley (2000), esp. 120–1, “the reality that all slave-owners have always had to face, that all slaves cannot be reduced to a condition of total subservience and compliance all the time, that the human will cannot always be completely

236

Notes to pages 193–200

suppressed. . . . The slave-owner could never count on converting the slave into a tamed animal.” 9. E.g. Apuleius, Metamorphoses 8.25, non asinum uides. . . . nec calcitronem, Pliny, Natural Histories 30.149, mulas non calcitrare, cum uinum biberint. 10. Cf. Labeo in libris quos ad duodecim tabulas conscripsit (fr. 25, cited by Gellius 20.1.13, on the law SI INIVRIAM ALTERI FAXSIT, XXV AERIS POENAE SVNTO): L. Veratius fuit egregie homo improbus atque immani uecordia. is pro delectamento habebat os hominis liberi manus suae palma uerberare. eum seruus sequebatur ferens crumenam plenam assium; ut quemque depalmauerat, numerari statim secundum duodecim tabulas quinque et uiginti asses iubebat (with HolfordStrevens [1988] 90–1). 11. These slaves share their role(s) to the point of each fighting the other to outpraise each other (558–9 ~ 576): uirtutes qui tuas non possis collaudare | sicut ego possim ~ num male relata est gratia, ut collegam collaudauui |. The set-piece is marked as such (575, ut meque teque maxime atque ingenio nostro decuit)—and the striking pos . . . turings declared over (578): iam omitte haec . . . 12. NB: *Assterisks*. At no other point can we ascribe to Asinaria any hint of the ghost of any shadow of the otherwise unattested pun assibilating between Roman coinage and Roman donkeys: as, assis, and asinus, -i. On the other hand, the derivation of pecunia, “money,” from pecus, “cow,” carries with it the diminutive form, peculium, the saved-up “stash” which is all a “proper” slave ever saw of cash. A neat line links the whore’s plea for just one sheep to be her very own—peculiarem, 541—to the boy’s imaging of their affair as amores, dispulsos and compuls[os] like a herd of pecudes (738). Plautus’ choice of Phil-hippeioi for his cash (152) underlines the cardinal role of hip Argyr-ippus’ hippie name in the plot (p. 161). 13. Here the verbal puncepts patior-pater and faciet-facile underline the assmilation of meretrix to money in the indicative-deictic pun haec (p. 229 n.9, cf. p. 232 n.18). 14. “There is perhaps no better example in Roman Comedy of sheer Saturnalian perversity, the elevation of the slave and humiliation of the master.” (Konstan [1983] 55) More needs saying than just “They force embraces from the girl, piggyback rides from her lover” (ibid.), or “The scene ends in boysterous slapstick, as Libanus rides horseback on his master Argyrippus. The tragic tone is banished by triumphant (visual) demonstration” (Slater [1985] 63). 15. For libet as logo of this please-yourself theatre: Leadbeater (1987). 16. Cf. Scullard (1981) 91–2. 17. For this Plautin puncept—the slave’s “lumbared”—cf. Epidicus 360. 18. Slaves catch it in the “back and legs”: tergo-et-cruribus (409), cf. crura hercle diffringentur (474). 19. Of course, the verb fero carries any script: words for money. But for the record, where “[. . .]” means not directly fetching cash, cf.: adfero, 231, 238, 240, 242,

Notes to pages 200–204

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269, 331, 337, 361, 369, 532, 733, [761]; aufero, 97, 154, 163, [424], [469], [816]; defero, 852, [885]; fero, [323], 347, 355, 487, 503, 670, [672], 699, 700, 732, [803]; offero, [593]; profero, 651; refero, [158], [164], [398], 441, 444, [576]; suffero, [557]; cf. furcifer, [484+485], [677]. Contrast: baiulo, 660; porto, 690, deporto, 524 (perhaps 159 and 241 pun between portitor = “toll-gatherer at a port [portus]” / = “carrier [porto]”); ueho, [343], 699, 700, 701, subuecto, [342]. 20. Moritz (1958) 67–73, “Mills and millers in Plautus’ comedies,” at 68; cf. 74, “In Italy the donkey-mill was soon to become the grain-mill par excellence” (mola asinaria: Cato De Agri Cultura 10.4, 11.4); and 97–102, “Animal-mills and slavemills,” esp. 100, “the commonest mill-animal was undoubtedly the ass which was notoriously cheap to keep, and if horses were used they were horses unfit for any other purpose.” 21. Normally, we could put it, the boy would ride the pederast cock-horse, as in Petronius 64.11–12, where Lord Trimalchio takes slave-pet Croesus aboard, basiauit puerum ac iussit supra dorsum ascendere suum. non moratus ille usus est equo manuque plena scapulas eius subinde uerberauit. Who’s taking whom for a ride of course itself includes the pleasures of . . . perverse inversion, as well as of . . . transverse game-and-reality conversion. Cf. Rimell (2002) 50–2. 22. The scene parodies scenes such as Menander, Samia 366–4, 390–8. 23. Salus (Publica, Romana, etc.) did receive temple and cult (cf. Cicero, De Natura Deorum 2.61), but most references are just S.O.S. appeals (cf. Oxford Latin Dictionary s.v. §7). Fortuna Obsequens has cult attested in inscription and on coin, but is more a locution here than a divinity (as in Pseudo-Seneca, Octavia 452; cf. Oxford Latin Dictionary s.v. Obsequens §2b). Plautus’ slaves are messing with Hellenizing convulsions in Rome along a path from linguistic abstraction to cultic reification: see Axtell (1907). “Statue + altar” define cult status: Stewart (2003) 24. 24. Contrast illic hanc mihi seruandam (676), where haec is the bag of money (p. 198). 25. Cf. 515, where Philaenium laments: meas queror fortunas. 26. Supplico: cf. 150, 246, in the exchanges between madam and client; 467, in the assault on the courier. 27. Cf. illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi (288), as One geared up to being joined by, and to, Two. 28. Besides the opportunity for some stage antics of mutual revulsion, this by-play intimates that the slaves are interested in a bigger prize than humiliation through sexual manhandling: power of and through money impresses them more. 29. The rest of the play will choreograph ugly proxemics, touched off by the lovers’ hug for dear life (615, complectere). The couple of slaves encompass the couple of lovers in a memorably self-reflexive chiasmus (618): | circumsistamus → alter hinc ↔ hinc alter ← appellemus. |; then put distance between themselves and

238

Notes to pages 205–207

their victims-to-be (639, 646, secede huc, concedite istuc). “Hugs between lovers, and between lovers and louts,” they insist, “not between louts” (640–7, 668–9, 679, 692, 696–7, complexos . . . complexos . . . complexum . . . amplexetur; amplexare; | prehende auriculis, compara labella cum labellis |, | circumda . . . bracchiis, . . . circumplecte | . . . circumplectatur). “Kissings” abut “lashings and chippings of them” (670, osculetur, uerbero, 697, circumplectatur, carnifex; cf. 687). All to forestaste Father’s saucy sandwich, between the pair of young things on heat (739, patrem hanc amplexari, p. 195). 30. Cf. me emere natum suum, 72, tun redimes me . . .—redimam, 106–7 ~ redime . . . te . . . et tibi eme hunc, 673. We have a nightmère expert on “buying” and “borrowing” in Madam: diem aquam solem lunam noctem, haec argento non emo (198). But she must be joking (noctem . . . ?). She was joking when she added (199): “The rest we want to use, we purchase on Greek credit” (p. 127). 31. Sutton (1993) 92–4 aptly expounds the Oedipality of our under-assertive kid’s “dejected passivity,” for him the mainspring of the drama—not the structure of power within the domus. 32. The opposition, equid-distant from the ox, is worked hard in Aesopica: 181, 357, 565, 571 Perry. Cf. Drake (1968–9). 33. The girl’s rhapsody at 664–5 is run-of-the-mill; the slave’s special request at 666–8 is laughable (Dickey [2002] 156–7). Diabolus’ comic contract would restrict her to pure Attic diction—“not one single word of aporia” (792–3: perplexabilis is a{pax, so is it Latin?). Chapter 10. A Right Earful 1. All of Plautus’ scripts are shot through with insistence on the phonic materiality of language—Plautin verse uses the body, does utterance: e.g. esp. malamale-malo, 129–30, blande ac benedice, 206, | faciebatis ~ | fugiebatis, 212, 213, and of-ficium facis ac . . . fugis, 380, ianuae lenoniae, 241, quod des aedes, 242, facio facetum me atque magnificum uirum, 351, tibi ero praesente reddam. | . . . ero huic praesente reddam |, 455–6, facere fas, 514, lacrimantem lacinia tenet lacrimans, 587, labore liberas . . . baiulabo, 660, dispulsos compulit, 738, faenerato funditat, 902. 2. Father’s sermon encloses the elision and resolution flurry of its meat (66– 72) within the ring between his clarion call to order (64): omnes—parent—es | Liban—e lib -eris—suis, and its closing asseveration at 73 (p. 182):eos me— decre— tum est per—sequi—mores—patris. Notice that a key set piece is on its way, and comes where it belongs, at 65. 3. Theatre people, drama queens and critics in the round, obsass over visuality (kinetics). But acting styles (choreographies) work (with) words, for all they are worth (p. 171). So the miracle of public drama must be the bond of mass silence which founds an auditorium. Hence Asinaria’s sound check (4). 4. Here, as you have heard (pp. 136–7), we are to listen hard to the Graeco-Latin play between consilia+exordiar and Archi-bulum, which tells us that the play will

Notes to pages 208–210

239

go with the money, straight inside madame’s next door, where all the action is coming from. 5. At 327–8, One quells Two with traffic-calming verse: with mansero abiding at verse end, and the deferential “in your own time” turning into an instant surprise prick of irritation, at having to wait sooo looong: uel . . . adeo . . . usque . . . dum—peris. One invites Two to pop his soooo impoooortant question all in a rush at verse end, a tactic which injects extra “drama” into the frantic crawl towards the urgent news release held up between 267 and 333: non uides | → age age mansero | → ubinamst erus? | → iam satis est mihi | → mitte ridicularia | (326–30, touching off the “ridiculous emission” of parodic pomposity in 331) → . . . haec scias :: taceo :: beas | (332: and they’re off ). 6. Listen: hear Plautus make fun of, as well as with, the formulae for cooking plot information into the semblance of dialogue. Don’t forget (cf. p. 193), the crucial début of the “asses” in Asinaria is in the guise of a “memory,” and the theme livens up lame narration: meministine? :: memini ~ teneo . . . memor es (333–4 ~ 342) ~ quid tum postea? | → quid tum postea? | → quid tum? :: ausculta ergo, scies. | (334+335, 346, 350; cf. postea, 357 ~ interea, 370). Sending Slave in a ’Urry racing off to tell Master at the mall spares us hearing the script recapped: narra haec ut nos acturi sumus (367); until we get it, anyway, “memoriously” recounted by One to Two as the “memorious” triumph of Master’s comic wit, unfortunately spared us today, but for this five line narration (580–4). 7. The Courier (really, “The Trader,” and Very Much His Own Man, but not dynamically) has his own agent, a slave/boy to do the door knocking for him; but this agent remains instrumental, granted significance, though neither voice, nor agency (382–3). 8. Courier picks up on Libanus’ placatory attempts to understate his financial reportage to the ogre: tandem opinor |, 448 ~ fecisse satis opinor |, 436, dimidio minus opinor |, 441. 9. Libanus’ “double role within the scene”: Slater (1985) 61–2. 10. Having figured herself as shepherd of an owner’s flock, keeping just one favourite for their own (539–40), this sheepish lamb is whistled back to the fold at just one word from mama. But she has picked up on ma’s accusation (505) an ita tu es animata . . . ? Whores (she proves) have a heart, mind (513, animus orat), and it can get in the way, professionally speaking (537, animus occupatus est), unless allowed one little pen in the fold for its own (542, animi causa). This person does manage to infiltrate “hope,” “consolation” and “one true love,” into the play’s palette of amor. Just barely. 11. Schmidt (1902) 178–9.

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Notes to pages 211–215

12. Cf. Fontaine (2005)—in support, however, of the reading ë“Onagro", “Wild Ass,” “according to the best MSS” and Danese (2004). 13. The sight of husband nesting with a cuddly bird will be a blow, too, only to matrona: em tibi hominem (880). 14. “Argyrippus” answer is revealing (= 849+850). The father who sold his right to respect now relies on the naked—bespoken—power of cash to bend his son to his will. Thematically, then, this scene recapitulates the movement of the drama as a whole.” (Konstan (1983) 54). Off his stroke for the nonce, Slater (1985) 65 translaters “Yes, you’ve conquered me with that stroke.” Epilogue 1. For a start, this is where we came in (came on): si uultis, 946 ~ s iuultis, 1. 2. Tying up the play, as Demaenetus’ psychodrama: cf. 113, omnem animum ostendisti tuum, p. 221 n.13. 3. Slater (1985) 67–9, at 69 n. 10. 4. Rose (1984) 29, 35–6.

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Scafuro, A. C. 1997. The Forensic Stage: Settling Disputes in Graeco-Roman New Comedy. Cambridge. ———. 2003. “The Rigmarole of the Parasite’s Contract for a Prostitute in Asinaria: Legal Documents in Plautus and Terence.” Leeds International Classical Studies 3.4. Schauwecker, Y. 2002. “Zum Sprechverhalten der Frauentypen bei Plautus.” Gymnasium 109: 191–211. Schmidt, K. 1902. “Die griechischen Personnamen bei Plautus.” Hermes 37: 173– 211, 353–90, 608–26. Schuhmann, E. 1977. “Der Typ der uxor dotata in den Komödie des Plautus.” Philologus 121: 45–65. Scullard, H. H. 1981. Festivals and Ceremonies of the Roman Republic. London. Segal, E. 1968. Roman Laughter: The Comedy of Plautus. Cambridge, Mass. Sherberg, B. 1992. Das Vater-Sohn-Verhältnis in der griechischen und römischen Komödie. Tübingen. Shershow, S. C. 1986. Laughing Matters: The Paradox of Comedy. Amherst, Mass. Slater, N. 1985. “Asinaria as Guerrilla Theatre.” In Plautus in Performance: The Theatre of the Mind, 55–69. Princeton. Solin, H. 2003. Die griechischen Personnamen in Rom: Ein Namenbuch, 1–3. 2nd ed. Berlin. Stewart, P. 2003. Statues in Roman Society: Representation and Response. Oxford. Sutton, D. F. 1993. “Asinaria.” In Ancient Comedy: The War of the Generations, 86–95. New York and Ontario. Svendse, E. D. 1986. The Professional Handbook of the Donkey. New York. Trapp, M. B. 2001. “Tickling the Ears: Apuleius’ Prologue and the Anxieties of Philosophers.” In Kahane and Laird, 39–46. Treggiari, S. 1991. Roman Marriage: Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian. Oxford. Ussing, J. L., ed. 1875. T. Macci Plauti, Comoediae, 1: 347–435. Copenhagen. Vanoyeke, V. 1990. La Prostitution en Grèce et à Rome. Paris. Vogt-Spira, G. 1991. “Asinaria oder Maccus vortit barbare.” In Plautus barbarus: Sechs Kapiteln zur Originalität des Plautus, ed. E. Lefèvre, E. Stärk, and G. Vogt-Spira, 11–69. ScriptOralia 25. Tübingen. Walker, J. 2005. Review of Danese (2004). Bryn Mawr Classical Review 7. Willcock, M. M. 1997. Review of Cantica, ed. C. Questa (1995). Classical Review 47: 296–8. Wright, J. 1974. Dancing in Chains: The Stylistic Unity of the Comoedia Palliata. Papers and Monographs of the American Academy in Rome 25. Rome. Zagagi, N. 1980. Tradition and Originality in Plautus: Studies of the Amatory Motifs in Plautine Comedy. Hypomnemata 62. Göttingen.

Indexes

1. Asinaria accipio/do (take/pay dough), 140, 145, 150 Aeacides = Achilles, 148 aequus, 141 alley, rear entrance (angiportum), 187, 189 anger, 133, 148–49, 222, 226 artutus, 112 aside, 169, 207, 210, 227 overheard, 159, 209, 229–30 asinaria, -ius, 211, 219 asses, 191, 235 Arcadian, 193, 235 beaten, 191, 193–94 bray, vii, 177, 194 ears and texts, vii, 220, and passim grex, xii, 219 and horses, 206, 238 and oxen, 203, 235 stubborn (not stupid), 235 worn out, 193, 197–98 See also calcitro; mill assonance, 172, 200 See also sigmatism Athens, 126–27, 139 audience (hearing/heeding,), 207–15

gynephobic, 133, 170, 180, 196, 230–31 of (leading) men, 159, 213–15 = silence, xii, 208, 219, 238 trap for, 137, 223 authorship, 224 bag of cash/asses/comedy (crumina), 176–77, 192–94, 198, 226 bear (load, baiiulo, fero, adfero, etc., porto, ueho), 196–97, 200–202, 236–37 See also suffer beg, beseech (obsecro, oro, exoro), 134, 163, 229 “brothel,” hires out girl, for a day/ party/year, 140–41, 180, 229 -keeping, as bird-catching/fishing/ port, 139–40, 171–72, 231 mirrors bourgeoisie, 136 raided for girl, 159, 228 calcitro, 193, 236 carry. See bear; suffer celox, 173

247

248

Index

contract with madam, 3, 141, 160, 166– 67, 170, 179, 230, 234 for time-share, 166, 170, 189, 223–24 cooking up (comedy), 230 curse. See wishes date, unknown, vii dawn. See wake up delivery of payment, 150 Demophilus, 219 Dius Fidius, 225 doors = drama, 173, 183–86, 212, 231 = sex, 19, 227, 231 dusk/dinner-time/symposium/party/ orgy/finale, 138, 164, 180, 195, 210 elm (= scourge), 146, 173, 222 em, “ouch,” 195, 212 endure (duro), 147, 181–82, 210 See also suffer entrances/exits, 131, 178–79, 183–86 problems with, 179–80, 186–90 epilogue, from the cast, 213 exobsecro, 134 family. See money/power/sex ferricrepinus, 231 fides, 140, 225 fides Graeca, 127, 140, 221, 238 See also wordplay and puns, credo forum, 141, 183–84 fustitudinus, 202–3, 231 gods, pretend, 164, 203, 237 Fortuna Obsequens, 203, 237 Libentia, 197 Perfidia, 176 Pietas, 228 Salus, 203, 237 Greece/Hellas, 127, 221, 238 See also fides

grope girl, to humiliate boy, 29, 156, 203–5, 237 hawk up (comedy), 132, 222 horseplay/piggyback, to humiliate master, 198–202 hostio, hostimentum, 139, 227 housework, 128, 227 hug, 180, 204, 237 See also grope girl imperium, domestic, 126, 128–29, 155–56, 161, 196, 228 impossibility (= comedy), 223 indoor scene. See dusk/dinner-time/ symposium/party/orgy/finale insula, 231 jokes aposiopetic, 109, 172, 219 boom-boom, 159, 171, 177 delay, 161, 227, 233, 239 innuendo, 126, 178 para prosdokian, 132, 147, 169–70, 178 repetition, 233 riddling, 171, 174, 177, 192 tantalizing, 233 tediousness, 179, 185 visual and bodily (see mime) See also parody of high style; proverbial phrases; roles, slave; violence; wordplay and puns kiss, 163, 180, 229–30, 232 language bodily, 238 precision (= comedy), 171–80 See also mime laugh (at laughing = comedy), 161, 230

Index law (= comic genre), 179, 210 lawcourt, threat of, 138 libido/libet (release of repressed = comedy), 132, 180–81, 197, 203, 214–15, 220, 234, 236 loan, and interest, 141, 149, 151 lovers’ farewell duet, 159, 177, 204 luck shared, 143 ludo, deludo, 160–61, 164, 230, 233 lyric, as virtuoso display, 138, 224 Mars, xii, 197, 219 meritissimum, 114 metres, viii, 117–20, 183–86 metrical FX badmouthing, 233 bump-’n’-grind/seduction, 228, 232 butting in, 149 effulgence-effusion, 173 hounding, 182, 210 trembling, 222 trumping, 225 military language, 227 mill, 132, 200, 237 mime (scene for hamming), 163, 167, 172, 204, 224, 227, 230, 232, 237–38 money/power/sex, 136, 140, 145, 155–56, 161–63, 169, 202, 205, 229, 236–37 mount, sexually, 202, 237 names mentioned, 220, 221, 237 Archibulus, 136–37, 186 Archidemus, Chaerea, Chaerestratus, Chremes, Clinia, Cratinus, Demosthenes, Dinia, 221 Dromo, 150, 227 Exaerambus, 150, 227 Periphanes, 152, 228 Philodamus, 151 Solon, 162, 229

249

Stichus, 150 Strato, 227 names of the characters Argyrippus, 137, 161, 229, 236 Artemona, 210–11 Cleäreta, 137, 139 Demaenetus, 133, 213–15 Diabolus, 137, 168 Leonida, 126–27, 143, 163 Libanus, 143, 163, 197, 203 Philaenium, 137–38, 162, 189 Saurea, 126, 220 oath, 132, 140 odium (the loathsome = comedy), 175, 181 oenopolium, 108, 225 oratio. See rhetoric original, Greek (Onagus), xii, 191–92, 211, 219 parody of high style, 173, 208, 231 Pella, 235 perlecebrae, 107 perplexabilis, 114, 238 Philippei (aurei), 139, 236 pietas, 155, 169, 228 plot, cut (to make a comedy), 125, 144, 229, 231 = “time passes,” 137, 143–44, 187–90, 234 prayer. See wishes productions ancient, 219 recent, 219 prologue presencing in, xiii, 221 ring structure, xii–xiii tease, xiii promises, 133, 156, 181, 222 proverb, a man is a wolf to a man, xi, 175

250

Index

proverbial phrases “credit limit zero” (= “Computer says no”), 172, 188 fish the sky, 134 fly without wings, 134 four white horses, 192 hands have eyes, 140, 225 head and foot, 178–79 strip a nude, 134 words are money, 139 words aren’t money, 155–56 reading on stage (= anticomedy), 179, 210 rhetoric (oratio), 146, 175–76, 225, 228 roles courier/stranger/merchant, 144, 233 bore, 228 stubborn, 175, 194 crier/herald, xii, 219 daughter/meretrix/amatrix, 155–56, 170, 180, 189, 223, 228–29, 233, 239 madam/owner/mother, 134–35, 138– 39, 155–56, 170, 175–76, 188–90 master/paterfamilias/pal/rival of son/senex amator, 125, 128–29, 153, 158–59, 169–71, 179, 195, 221, 228, 240 matrona/mother/shrew/uxor dotata, 126, 138, 141, 158, 170, 196, 210–11, 213, 221 pal/parasite/snitch, 166, 170, 180–81, 185–86, 213, 230 rival/snitch/adulescens amator, 137, 141, 166, 168, 179–80, 224–25 son/brothel client/adulescens amator, 137, 141, 159, 161, 180–82, 188, 195, 213, 224, 233 slave: actor, 192, 213, 235 brags of scars, 194

the brains (callidus), 125, 153, 173, 189–90 hung up, 134, 147, 174, 231–33 in a stew (iratus), 126, 148–53 in a ’urry (currens), 127, 150, 226–27, 239 in disguise, 147–53 insubordinate, 151–52, 160, 197–206 non-speaking parts, 88, 215, 239 ruffian/smoothie, 153 scared, 131–34, 222 silent, 131 standing (by), 200 stripped (for flogging, nudus), 147, 232 tortured, 162–63, 174, 177, 194 triumphant, 158, 176 whipped/beaten, 151, 153, 162, 191–94 See also asses; mill steward/accountant/atriensis, 144, 148–49, 152, 174–75 sadistic/self-important/tyrannizes other slaves, 148 roles, play within, 129, 153, 156, 170–71, 221–23 disintegrate in finale, 181, 210 shared, 143, 158, 190, 230, 234, 236 sex. See money/power/sex sigmatism, 209 smile, fake, 161, 195, 212 steal clothes, from matrona, 129, 134 girl, from pimp (see “brothel”) subdomo, 202 suffer (patior), 147, 181–82, 210 See also bear; endure supplication, on knees, to humiliate master, 197–98 suprema (end of the day’s session), 229 suscenseo, 222

Index text Danese’s edition, viii, 122 Lindsay’s edition, viii, 121–22 threats, 138, 222, 231 translego, 230 uerbiuelitatio, 147, 174, 231 uinnulus, 172, 232 Venerium (the “Venus throw”), 215 violence (= comedy), 134, 205 sexual, 204, 227, 237 wake up (= start scheming), 136, 226 wishes, xii, 132–33, 164–65, 177–79 wordplay and puns amatores-aues, 231 [asinaria]-argentarius, 136–37 [asinaria]-patinarium . . . assum, 172 colloco-collo, 197 comprimo/opprimo, 227 credo (credit/believe/trust), 150, 152 cubo-cuculus, 182 des-aedes, 238 dicta-docta-data, 155–56 dormio-domi, 149 durabo-iurabo, 147 erus-hara, 149 facio-facetus-magnificus, 238 facio-facilis, 195, 236 fallacia-falsa, 173 fert-fortiter, 147 ibi-ibo, 138 lectus-illex, 172, 232 lego-leges, 230 Libanus-labor-libentia-liber-liberolibertus-libet, 197, 203, 238

251 manica-manus, 174 minis-animis, 148 modus-modo, 140 opibus-omni-copia, 232 osor-uxor, 171, 222, 231 panis-pannus, 138 pariter-partio, 226, 229 pater-patior, 236 patior-potior, 147 patro-impetr(i)o, 173 pecus-peculium-pecunia, 236 pedes-pendes-pondo es-pondium, 134, 174, 231–32 Pella-(com-/dis-)pello, 235 perdo-pereo, 172–73 plane, 197 pol-polenta, 223 praeda-praesidium, 229 puer, 202 salue-saluere-salus, 170, 203 sapio (savour/have savvy), 234 scelestus (wicked/wretched), 111 scio-scipio, 158 seruo-seruos, 125, 220 supersum-sospes-superstes, 130 statua-statuo, 203 suauuis-suadeo, 178 subdomo-superbus, 201–2 talos admoueo (shake dice/rub ankle), 234 uerbero (flog/fuck), 178, 233 uinctus-deuinctus, 146, 169, 174 uinnulus-uenustulus, 172, 232 uis-uita-uiuus, 130 uolup-uapulo, 215

2. Other Asina, Cornelius, 192 augury, 173, 232 Barrie, J. M., Peter Pan, 214–15 Cicero

Ad Familiares 7.1.2, 235 De Natura Deorum 2.61, 237 Pro Caelio, generations in, 229 Ennius, Pancratiastes fr. 382W, 222

252 Gellius 20.1.13, 236 Girodet, Mlle. Lange (as Danae), x Havet, Louis, 191–92, 224 Horace, Epistles 2.1.187–92, 235 Isidore, Etymologiae 12.1.40, 235 Liberalia, 197 Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.6.29, 192 Naevius fr. 27W, 197 Petronius 64.11–12, 237 Plautus, name, 219 Poenulus 684, 235 Pseudolus 136–37, 191, 235 Polybius, 221 Propertius 3.25.3, 226 Terence, Adelphoe, 221, 223

Index trade banker, 152 barber, 148, 227 bread-sellers, 140, 225 cash transfer, 152 goblets for hire, 151 mill: and “donkey,” 222, 237 rotary, 200 olive shipping, 150 sub-contracting, 150 wine, 140, 150 -shop (see oenopolium) tresuiri, 138

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